Something There
by pleasejustbuildasnowman
Summary: Elsanna non-icest AU with some adult themes. Other characters include Kristoff as Anna's best friend, Olaf as Elsa's friend, and Hans. When Anna's parents die in a tragic accident, she moves in with her family friends, including her ex-best friend Elsa. They haven't spoken in ten years, and it seems as if Elsa wants to keep it that way.
1. Prologue

A little girl with auburn hair sticking in all directions curls into her blankets. Her fingers grip onto her maroon fleece blanket like a lifeline as she fidgets in her sleep. She kicks off the corner of her blanket just as the door to the room opens.

An older child walks in, tiptoeing without so much as squeaking on the floor boards. She's been outside in the winter air for hours, yet there's hardly any flush on her face, besides her usual rosy cheeks. She carries an elegant black feather and a shining blue rock with such pride that one would think she had found a treasure chest. She observes the younger girl, still asleep on her bed, cautiously before gliding across the room to her bedside table.

Elsa smiles at the array of objects on the bedside table that really do belong to Anna. Although the room is a guest room, the two of them have sleepovers so often that the room has become their own. The original beige blankets were replaced with maroon and blue, toys litter the floor, and various chocolate bar wrappers are shoved beneath their mattresses in hiding from Elsa's parents.

She places the feather on the table with the sparkling blue rock atop. Anna doesn't have the patience to go looking for trophies, but whenever Elsa surprises her with something, the look that crosses her face is magical. Even in her sleep, it seems as if Anna's lips twitch up to form a smile.

Regarding the girl's tiny exposed foot, she pulls the blanket back over to the corner of the bed before whispering, "Goodnight, Anna," and kissing the girl softly on the cheek.

Still making as little noise as possible, although Anna is the heaviest sleeper in Arandelle, she slips into her bed. As she slides down, she pats the blankets neatly down around her. The comparison between the two is stark; like night and day.

"Elsa. Psst!"

Anna is gripping the side of Elsa's bed, smiling wildly at her. Her little head only just peaks above the bed, so she uses her well rested legs to spring up onto the bed.

"Elsa," she tries again when the blond doesn't stir, clambering onto her back and bouncing. "Wake up, wake up, wake up," she whines.

An eye opens now, Elsa can't help but grin at the bundle of energy bouncing on top of her. Still, the eight year old was up far past her bedtime to get her something to play with, so she it is without guilt when she says, "Anna, go back to sleep."

Anna sighs in a way that the two have only heard from their exhausted mothers. "The sky's away, so I'm awake, so we have to play."

Elsa can feel the little girl flailing her arms melodramatically upon her. It presents the perfect opportunity. With a small nudge, she sends the little girl onto the ground, "Go play by yourself."

The small grunt that issues when the red head lands manages to squeeze Elsa's heart, even while she was the one to put her there. Having been there Anna's whole life, Elsa has a protective instinct that rivals Anna's own mother. The adults would laugh at her as a four year old, cradling baby Anna with such tenderness that she could have been made of the most fragile sheets of ice and stayed intact.

Once on the ground, Anna views a marvelous mound of fresh snow lying on the windowsill. Her frown turns into a wide smile within seconds, and she bounds back onto the bed with sprite.

She lifts up an eyelid and notices a corner of Elsa's mouth is already turned up. "Do you wanna build a snowman?"


	2. For the First Time in Forever

"I can't," Elsa says, extending her hands as a shield. She holds them out steadily in front of her, focusing all her attention on keeping them still, until she breaks contact with her fingers to see her parents. Expressions of hurt, concern, and confusion line their features. Her fingers fall to show her big, blue eyes.

"Elsa," her father comfortingly. Elsa's hands instinctively close up into her body, clutching each other for support, and she recoils as if he had tried to hit her.

"Don't."

A woman bearing striking resemblance to her only daughter—so much so that if the daughter's hair returned to the brown she was born with, they could be mistaken for one another—bites the inside of her cheek, which only Elsa notices. Otherwise cool and emotionless, the nervous habit is one that they share. "Please, Elsa. Just to say hello."

"I've said hello." Ten years ago.

Elsa's voice is calm, clear, and collected. She prides herself on it, for their expressions become uncertain. It's hard to argue, she knows, with one who looks so sure of themselves.

The adults share an exasperated look, and a sigh escapes from Maurice. A white, gloved hand makes its way to rub between his eyebrows. Elsa gives him a once over, partially to ignore her mother's constant gaze, and notices for the second time since he entered her room how old he has become. His auburn hair has become dusted with gray, and his moustache is constantly shaved off to preserve some sense of youth. She misses the stubble when he kissed her cheek goodnight. Not that he has been kissing her cheek as of late.

It's her mother's voice that startles her out of her trance. "Elsa, you are going to go out there and talk to that girl who has just gone through the most devastating time of her life. You are not going to sit in your room in front of that ridiculous screen you've become so fond of. You are going to be human, for once."

Her mother is a proud woman, Elsa knows this, and at one point she strived to be exactly like her. But she has never heard her say such a cold, hard truth. These sort of talks were reserved for her father. The words lodge into Elsa's spine, and she feels like the most selfish girl in the world. Anna probably needs someone, anyone, to help her. She probably expected her best friend to come running to greet her at the door. Instead, she's alone in one of the spare bedrooms. Perhaps even the one they shared as children, with chocolate bar wrappers shoved beneath the mattresses.

The blonde knows what it's like to be alone, but she is by choice. Anna, on the other hand...

At the thought of her ex-best friend's name, Elsa's stomach lurches and warmth appears from the dusty pits of feeling in her body.

_Don't feel it._

Elsa isn't quite sure what it is to be human anymore, but she's read enough books to at least feign socialization for half an hour. She will keep her head down, she won't let a flush spread across her cheeks, and she will keep the dialogue to something she would find in only the first chapters of a book.

"Yes, ma'am."

A sigh of relief escapes Jennifer's lips as she bends down to kiss her daughter on the temple. "I love you."

The words had not been said so genuinely in years, and, although Elsa is certain she's the only one in the room who realizes this, the air around them seems to grow cold. Her nails dig into her palm just as her eyelids flutter closed.

By the time she opens her mouth to formulate a response, the door has clicked closed behind her. So wrapped up in her reverie, she hadn't felt her parents brush past her and out the door.

The words die in her throat, and once again her stomach is clenched and her hands are shaking. It feels as if someone is gripping her heart and squeezing it slowly until it can hardly beat at all. All her senses are magnified, yet shut down at the same time and all she can think is _don't feel it, don't feel it, don't feel it_ as she stumbles back to her four poster bed. Her hands shake, her blood is replaced with an icy cold, and she's trembling in a way she is all too familiar with.

The slender girl feels pathetic as she falls onto the bed and hugs her legs to her chest. Blackness seems as if it's descending onto her, pressing against her eyelids, and she wishes she could open her eyes and assure herself that she is alive and okay and intact, rather than being suffocated. Or, rather, see, since opening her eyes only results in spotted black vision.

She is going to see Anna. Her best friend. She is going to smell her outdoor scent and feel her calloused hand as she shakes hers, and maybe even feel her chest against hers if she hugs the way she did as a child.

_You won't be able to contain yourself._

The snide voice in her head causes her to bite down on her knuckles; the insides of her cheeks are already raw from her brief confrontation with her parents. Once upon a time, the pain would snap her from this awful torrent, but she's gone through so much worse now.

_And Anna's probably gone through a million times what you have._

Elsa wants to slap herself at her self-pity. She brought this upon herself. The fact that she hasn't spoken to the girl in so long is her own fault. Nobody said she couldn't speak to her again after what she did. On the contrary, they said that Anna was completely fine. That she wanted to see her again; that she didn't even remember the incident. Elsa had been the one who turned away from her.

Anna, on the other hand, had her parents stripped from her as suddenly as a lightning bolt strikes on a clear day. They are gone, and the poor girl has to deal with it alone. Without the only friend who knew her kind hearted parents even a fraction as well as she did. Sweet, innocent, gorgeous Anna, who only ever sees sun on rainy days and laughs whole heartedly at knock knock jokes.

Her entire body stiffens when her cheeks flush at the vivid image, and she is clawing at her arms again with her nails.

_Don't feel it._

After lying in her bed shivering, allowing her nails to slowly release her pale arms and taking soothing breaths, Elsa manages to sit up. She checks her cheeks for tears, although she knows that she won't find any.

A hair elastic lies on the ground, and blonde hair falls around her shoulders in layered plaits. She knows that her hair is a tangled mess without looking in the mirror, so she strides over to the washroom. This is the very reason her hair is almost constantly in a bun. A towel is waiting for her as usual, blue and fluffy with an elegant "E" embroidered on the corner.

Within seconds of stepping under the cool current of water, her muscles begin to relax. The cold drenches her hair enough to have it weigh a solid five pounds heavier. She allows the coolness to take over her senses, erase her memories, and let her heart rise from the pit it had fallen into.

What seems like hours later—Elsa can never tell because cold water never falters—the knots in her back are all but gone. A lazy smirk dares to stretch across her mouth. "You've got this," she whispers to herself as she slams off the cold water.

Still dripping wet, Elsa throws a towel around her body and steps into her room. As her hair is never down, she doesn't bother to blow dry it.

Now, finding an outfit to wear.

Elsa knows that she shouldn't care about an outfit since her main goal is to stay away from Anna, far enough away to never hurt her again, but she knows she has to make a good impression. Now that she's in university, she ought to give her parents the impression that she can act normally in front of people her age.

She can hardly believe her own façade for more than a minute. Really, she wants to look good for Anna. Because she was her role model once upon a time, she tells herself, she wants the redhead to be impressed with her. She wants to see the corners of her mouth go up, and a glow to outline the girl's freckles. Besides, Anna is so picture perfect beautiful that Elsa knows that she will be put to shame beside her no matter what she wears. From the glimpses of Anna retreating from Elsa's house after visiting every other Sunday, to the student photos hung up on their fridge, Elsa has more than enough proof of Anna's beauty. The beauty that makes her heart beat more quickly that it should. It won't be a competition. So, as she tears through her closet, she doesn't even consider that her nicest green dress could be too fancy. Her parents are not used to her wearing anything besides sweatshirts and plaid, but their eyes won't be on her with Anna in the room. She's sure of it.

There's an odd surge of electricity pulsing through Elsa's veins as she finds the only push up bra she owns, a thong, and pulls the elegant dress over her head. It was a gift from her father, under the pretense of it being a graduation dress. Elsa was valedictorian, after all. He would have gotten it for her without a reason, she knows, due to the way her eyes had sparkled when she saw them. Whilst having an oddly antisocial daughter, her father learned to jump at every opportunity at pleasing her. Not that it did any good. His bizarre child still manages to find herself standing in her room, flustered over the idea of revisiting her childhood best friend.

Her childhood best friend who puts a flush of colour across her face without even existing in the flesh.

She's just tying up the back of her dress, impressively with one hand, when there's a fast three taps on the door.

"Elsa?"

She thinks her heart stops. The immediate heat that crawls up from her core, into her face and every direction of her body, is delicious. Elsa hasn't felt anything like it in years.

"It's me, Anna, I, um, what am I—oh, right. Dinner. It's ready. In the room. The, uh, dining room. Yeah."

Elsa's face flushes so dark that it could easily be mistaken for purple. She hasn't spoken to her directly for ten years, and her voice puts a smile on the blonde's face that made her cheeks hurt. A fluttering commences in her chest and she feels faint, but in a good way.

"Elsa?" the voice calls again, hesitant this time.

_Oh, shit, she expects me to say something._

"Yeah!" she yells. Her voice is much too loud and it cracks. Elsa winces.

"Oh," she sounds alarmed, like she wasn't really expecting a response. "Good, I thought maybe you'd—never mind—I, um, I'll be waiting for you. Not for you. I mean, yes, for you, but food—"

Elsa is beaming behind the door, without realising that she has approached the door so close that she would be almost pressed against Anna if it opened. She is so close that she hears the gasp of breath Anna takes, as if she's attempting some sort of meditation to finish her sentence. Her hands fiddle with her hair absentmindedly in excitement.

"I'll be in the dining room."

The blonde is still beaming when the younger girl reaches the end of the hall.

In a frenzy of action Elsa did not know she was capable of, she ties her hair up into a clean bun. She already braided a section of it, a habit of hers that she is hardly aware of, and wraps it around the bun so that the longer bits of her bangs don't fall in front of her eyes.

_It's not a date, Elsa, calm down._

Evidently, nobody told Elsa's body that. Her heart hammers, her head swims with Anna's voice, and a smile subconsciously stretches itself across her face. Because, for the first time in forever, she is going to see Anna.

* * *

Anna feels supremely stupid as she sits at the large chestnut table, kicking lightly at the leg of the table. Her incoherent string of words faced an all-time low in front of Elsa's door. Really, it wasn't even English. Part of her wants to march right back up to the door and apologize in full sonnet form, just to prove that she isn't the same bumbling idiot she was as a little girl. She doesn't bother; she knows that the blue decorations on the door would just stun her into silence again and fill her with those silly butterflies that have refused to stop flying since her first interaction with Elsa in ten years.

She isn't sure what it is about the idea of her best friend, but it's the only thing that kept her tied to the world as everything around her changed. Her present day best friend, Kris, held her tight for hours once she got the news, and dozens of friends sent their condolences, but there was something about the memories here that made Anna overly excited to move in. Even if the girl herself had been aggressively silent for ten years, and after her parents' deaths.

Maybe, she dared to hope, she and Elsa could be friends again.

Even more hope had risen to Anna's heart at Elsa's response to her idiotic babbling. Her enthusiastic answer had issued mere feet from Anna's own head. It was the first word Elsa had spoken towards her since she told her to go away so long ago, and now she was listening and waiting for her, too. For once, Anna might not have been imagining that someone actually wanted to talk to her.

"So how's Christopher doing these days?" Mr. Isen asks kindly from across the table.

"It's Kristoff," she says automatically. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to be rude it's just, ya know, what _he_ says—"

"Anna, this is your home now, too. You don't have to apologize," Mr. Isen says warmly.

She looks down at her napkin, unsure of how to proceed. As per usual, her mouth steamrolls on without waiting for her mind to catch up. "Right, well, he's doing super great, actually, he started an ice business. Which I guess is weird, but he said it's really fun and kinda exhilarating and he actually invited me to work with him, but I don't want to cause ya know, me. But yeah, he gets his very own _reindeer_. Or reindoor I guess, since there's only one of them? Or, uh, not actually. I mean, who in the real world gets a reindeer?"

The Isens stare at her from across the table. Their postures are polite, but Anna can tell from their eyes that they're a tad lost.

"He's, uh, fine," she summarizes with a cough.

The queen is the first to catch up, clapping her hands together. "That's great to hear! I'm so glad you have such a good friend in your life. If you ever want to have him over, please do. I'm not sure what we have in terms of teenage things.. Elsa mostly sticks to herself."

_That explains the yelling_, Anna thinks to herself with a smile.

"As long as you have WiFi, we're good," Anna laughs.

The two exchange a knowing look. "In that case, we're _very_ teenage friendly. Elsa spends most of her life using that device of hers."

Anna straightens up upon hearing even the slightest news of Elsa. Maybe she's a gamer, or one of those hipster girls on tumblr. Anna can imagine her sneaking out at night to go drinking with the friends she keeps hidden from her parents, or egg some guy's house with some fellow gamers. One time, Anna had come across a group of college kids wearing capes and insisting that they were looking for The Ring (Anna is positive it's pronounced with capitals). For some reason, the idea of Elsa being one of those kids is absolutely endearing.

"What else does—" her words die in her throat as she sees a breathtaking blonde walk into the room. Her mouth drops open into a little "o" as she takes her in.

Anna had been imaging her childhood best friend as, well, just that. The same eight year old Elsa she knew and loved, but…bigger.

The girl in front of her is an entirely new creature. She takes her breath away, leaving it uselessly hitched at her throat. The same platinum blonde hair, of course, but piled into a bun rather than her characteristic braid, displays prominent collar bones. All the roundness of her face is gone to display a perfect, elegant, composed expression. Her shoulders are slim beneath a gorgeous dress that flatters her figure perfectly_. God, her figure_, Anna finds herself getting lost just looking at her. Flat stomach and _those hips_…

"Hi," Elsa says quietly, great teal eyes meeting Anna's. They're curious, almost as if she wants to know her too.

Mortified, Anna starts out of her fantasy. The irrational fear of mind reading crosses her mind before she realizes that Elsa's address was, in fact, directed towards her. She barely has time to hope that Elsa didn't notice her once over. "Hi me?" Elsa's lips quirk up to give her a soft, uncertain smile. "Oh, um, hi."

After so many years of silence, one would think that Anna would turn into a babbling idiot, or erupt in questions. After all, speaking needlessly is her forte. Yet she is at a complete loss for words in Elsa's gaze.

"You look beautiful," Elsa breathes as she takes a seat next to Anna.

Anna is positive that her face is the precise colour of a tomato. Elsa, calling her beautiful? This gorgeous girl—clad in a dress, no less—slender and blonde with such introspective eyes, isn't even on the same level as Anna.

"Thank you," she says automatically. _Say something else, idiot_. "You look beautifuller." _Not that_. "I mean, not fuller. You don't look fuller, but more beautiful."

The gorgeous blonde is miraculously not laughing, and only politely says, "Thank you," in return.

They completely forgot about Elsa's parents in front of them, who are staring at the pair in wonder. As the two meet their eyes, Elsa immediately looks down to her lap in a blush and the elder Isens begin babbling between the two of them. Anna can tell that they're shocked. Perhaps almost as much as she is.

Elsa looks at the two of them again, now animatedly conversing, and gives the younger girl a sideways glance. "So this is what a party looks like?" she says in an attempt to make a joke.

Anna flushes instantly, which seems to have become regular for her. "It's warmer than I thought," she comments in a lame attempt to hide her embarrassment. She's never acted this way around anyone. Bubbly, weird, and incoherent, sure. The flush and butterflies, on the other hand, are a fairly new ordeal.

Anna's not sure if Elsa is just being polite when she nods in agreement. "And what is that amazing smell?"

The two of them smell at the same time, and with excited eyes gush simultaneously, "chocolate." Their faces are so close, with their noses almost touching, that Anna's stomach does a couple of backflips when Elsa exhales.

They erupt into laughter, and the couple across from them look up with bright eyes. It has been years since Elsa had even looked alive, never mind laughed with the very girl she shut out in the first place.

"You two seem to be getting along," Mr. Isen says with a hearty laugh.

"You always did like chocolates," Mrs. Isen adds thoughtfully.

The childhood friends exchange a knowing look. Anna remembers the dozens of stolen chocolate bars easily, and judging by the flush and small laughter of her friend, she does too.

Anna's heart is light with this acceptance. Part of her cannot believe that this is reality, and she even gives herself a little pinch to make sure she's awake. Her entire life, she has been imagining this day. Meeting her childhood best friend as a vaguely more sophisticated person, giving her a warm hug that, in her memories, always smelt precisely like Elsa always did as a child, and exchanging joking glances.

When she moved into her house and didn't get so much as a "hello", however, she had let that dream crash along with the others.

From the corner of her eye, Anna realizes that Elsa has begun eating her salad. Anna hadn't even realized that there was food on the table with Elsa's beauty taking up about all of her mind's capacity. A faint flush spreads across her face as she begins to catch up on the eating she missed in her reverie.

The two girls don't exchange any more words. Rather, both smile down at their food with near identical expressions of relief and contentment.


	3. Realization and Escape

Elsa's hands are surprisingly still as she eats her dinner. Naturally, she is concentrating with the force of an Olympian on the sole quest of keeping her hands stationary, but this may be the first time it has actually worked. Her parents are speaking happily amongst themselves, so her mental absence is not noticed.

Every few moments, however, she will take her eyes off her autumn pecan salad to glance at the mysterious girl who calls herself Anna. She's absolutely stunning. Breathtaking. Literally, in Elsa's case. When she first walked into the dining room and saw her for the first time, her heart had leapt into her throat. She had caught glimpses of her through her bedroom window after the two families would visit, and view the photos Anna so frequently posted publically on Facebook, but something about seeing her in person and witnessing her adorable personality sent her over the edge. She is now fixed on this girl.

Her original idea had been to be as anti-social as possible, discouraging any future friendship between the two. But then Anna had stunned her and caused her to say that detrimental "hi". From then on, she hadn't been able to contain her interest.

She supposes that she did curb her curiosity, if only a little bit. If she had her way, Elsa would be asking Anna everything about her life; which sports she plays, when she stopped having birthday parties, what her favourite type of chocolate was, the name of her boyfriend, everything. More than anything, she wants to make up for the lost time.

But when these words bubble up to her lips and push to escape, she forces them back. It's one thing to be polite for a night, but she knows that this will be the last time. She can't continue to see her best friend, especially if Elsa's emotions will continue to run wild the way that they are.

Nevertheless, they are here together for tonight and there's nothing that Elsa can do about it. So if she does want to look at Anna a bit, maybe for the last time in ten years, it wouldn't be completely sinful.

Elsa peaks up at Anna, and when she sees the girl catch her eye and smile, she can't help but wish that she had hair to hide behind, at least. A blush rushes from the pit of her stomach into her cheeks in mere seconds. She curses her pale skin, certain that Anna has already caught on to her terrible thoughts.

Like the way that all her insides got all light and jumbled up when Anna looked at her with that admiring gaze so familiar to that of their childhood. How when she smiled at her with those dimples that she found herself looking at her lips rather than her eyes like a regular person. They're strange feelings; ones that Elsa has had and rejected for years.

_Conceal, don't feel._

She won't pass them on to Anna. Or even give Anna the chance to consider them.

With that thought, the blonde looks away and back at her empty plate. She manages to play with the bits of feta cheese and broken almond bits until her mother stands up excitedly, which Elsa imagines is more in anticipation in seeing the girls enjoy something together again than the actual desert, and scurries off into the kitchen. When she returns with a stacked chocolate cake with green icing coating the sides, Elsa feels fingers brush hers.

Her shoulders tense up, and she has to remind herself to stay calm.

_It's just holding hands._

Anna's fingers play with Elsa's for a moment before she cups them around her palm. Beads of perspiration begin to form on the blonde's forehead. Physical touch is not something that Elsa has been fond of since she was eight, especially not with Anna. But she can't pull away, not now, not as Anna's thumb traces her knuckles and it feels so deliciously good that Elsa has to hold back a content sigh. As her mother places the cake on the table, another wave of heat crashes over the older girl.

On top of the cake is a frosting photograph of the girls when Elsa was no more than five years old. She is holding Anna like a prize on her lap, arms wrapped around her protectively. Her eyes are focused on Anna's chubby toddler face in mesmerisation whilst she smiles with a beam that would look foreign on her face now.

Elsa's ears begin to ring, her breaths come less frequently, and she knows that she's losing air. An icy feeling washes over her within seconds. She begins to sink lower into her chair, like maybe if she goes far enough she won't exist anymore. Before she can sink far, Anna is squeezing her hand and smiling in her direction.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere. Remember that time you didn't talk to me for ten years?" she says jokingly, but Elsa can hear the note of pain hidden behind the remark. She wants to say something, but her mind is too occupied with the task of breathing to formulate a response.

_Conceal it, conceal it, conceal it. Don't let it show._

The blonde thinks that a chuckle escapes her lips, but she isn't in the mind to care anymore. The world is glitching in and out, like a radio with bad reception. She blinks, but the more she does so, the more black spots she sees.

"Elsa?" she hears her mother say.

_Shit, shit, shit. Get up, Elsa. Get up._

She attempts to make a questioning noise to stall, but it doesn't seem to do its job. By the time the black has subsided Anna is holding her hand tight with a worried look, and her mother is behind her chair. She, at least, is used to these sort of spells.

"Is it better, love?" she asks, refraining from touching her as per Elsa's usual request.

Elsa makes a sound of agreement and sits up in her seat. "Sorry, I haven't worn a dress in ages."

She mentally slaps herself. Maybe that worked for Kiera Knightly, but the dress she is wearing won't be given that same sort of ranking.

Her parents seem to take this an acceptable answer, or at least a good route to escape the awkward occasion.

"That's the dress Elsa wore for her valedictorian speech, Anna," Mr. Isen informs Anna with a note of pride in his voice. Elsa's ears have now turned a tomato red, and she's not sure what else could possibly turn red before she stays the colour permanently.

Anna rips her hand out of Elsa's as she turns to give her an exasperated, almost annoyed look. A tinge of relief washes through Elsa as her hand is freed, but it doesn't last long. "What? You didn't tell me you were one of these weird genius people!"

Elsa is hardly perturbed by her terminology, as that had been her title at elementary school, high school, and even at university. She's not even sure if some of the girls know her name. More, she's uncertain as to when Anna wanted her to tell her, given that they had spoken for approximately one minute in the past ten years. She wonders if Anna would say this sort of thing about contests she had won or the number of books she had read or even the university she was accepted to. She expects Anna to look away, but when she doesn't she gives her a small shrug of her shoulders.

"You probably think I'm such an idiot," she looks down at her lap.

"What?" Elsa says too harshly.

"I can barely formulate sentences and you have a twelve million percent average."

"Maybe terms like twelve million percent average are the reason you didn't get valedictorian yourself," Elsa teases before she realizes how genuinely upset Anna looks by the situation. "Wait, you're serious? You can't expect me to judge your intelligences, I've just met you." Another hurt look flits across Anna's face. "I didn't mean that, I just mean that I don't know anything about you anymore. I'm sure you're extraordinarily fit and musical and, well, I can't even function in a music classroom. I think I got an 82 in that class, because all I did was do theory worksheets in the corner."

"You say 82 like it's a bad thing," Anna pouts.

Elsa sighs in exasperation. "You know what I mean."

"Anyway," Mr. Isen blunders overtop of their bickering, "We were just proud she did it, so she got the dress. She hasn't worn it since, actually."

A small smile pulls at the corners of Anna's mouth as Elsa crosses her arms over her stomach.

_Well, if your staring, blushing, and fainting didn't give it away, that certainly did._

Anna's foot nudges the older girl's and she jumps. She's not used to somebody touching her so much in a year, never mind within a few hours. Especially not a gorgeous, warm, funny someone.

Elsa jerks her foot back, but it's no use. The two girls' feet tangle together, and she feels a goofy smile appear on her face as she nudges Anna with her calf. The two of them push on each other under the table for a few moments, laughing under their breath in an attempt to hide their actions from her parents. Until, that is, Anna manages to pull Elsa's foot to her side so much that she slides off the edge of her seat and onto the floor, landing squarely on her behind.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Anna exclaims, jumping up on her feet before Elsa can even make a disgruntled noise.

Elsa gives her a wide eyed look.

God, she was just playing footsies with Anna. Anna. The one girl in the world she promised herself she would never hurt; not ever again.

Elsa gathers her skirt and abruptly stands up, so quickly that she herself isn't quite sure what she's going to do. Her parents blink up at her as Anna's cheeks flush a dark colour.

"I, well, going to... may I be excused? To do the dishes, of course."

Her heart is racing, pounding against her ribcage as if it wants to get out of her body before it spontaneously combusts. Elsa can feel her low body temperature rising, flush heating every inch of her skin.

"Yes, of course—" but Elsa hears not another word. She's through the kitchen door, letting it slam behind her, without another look at her bewildered company.

* * *

The moment the door slams closed behind Elsa, her parents let out a sigh. "We're sorry about that, Anna, she's not terribly social."

"I know," Anna says. She doesn't blame Elsa, she never could, and didn't really expect any less. She's surprised that the girl even spoke to her, never mind made eye contact. Still, the acknowledgement that everything wasn't back to normal twisted cruelly at her heart.

"But, anyway, please help yourself," her parents say, beginning to cut the cake.

"Actually," Anna says, face flushing, "I'm feelings a bit full and I feel awful because it's really my fault that she fell, so could I maybe go help with the dishes? Elsa and I will eat the cake later, I promise."

The two give her a look of both admiration and sorrow, as if she shouldn't look so hopeful. Still, they agree with soft smiles.

"Thanks!" she says, bounding out of the room in the same direction as Elsa, ignoring the awful feeling in her chest.

She finds the older girl sitting on the ground with her knees pulled against her chest, breathing with an intense focus, as if she's training herself on how to stay alive. Her eyes are locked on her knees, and for a few seconds Anna sees an overwhelming sense of fear in them. This image only lasts a few seconds, however, for she scrambles up the moment Anna enters the room.

"Oh, hi," Elsa says in a cracked voice.

"Hi."

The two look at each other for a moment. Anna doesn't know what she did to hurt Elsa, but she wants to make it better. She doesn't want those beautiful blue eyes to look so hurt ever again.

"Sorry for making you fall," Anna says when Elsa just stares at her.

"You think that's—" guilt flashes across Elsa's face, "No, no, you didn't do anything wrong. Please, I just need to be left alone."

"You have been left alone," Anna exasperates, "for ten years. I'd like my Elsa back."

"Your Elsa is gone."

Anna feels as if she's been punched in the gut. She shakes her head. She doesn't know if she's trying to convince herself or Elsa.

Elsa seems unphased; her face is passive as stone. She turns to the sink, already high with bubbles, and begins scrubbing a pan. Her hands are hidden beneath the bubbles, and the moment that they are, Anna can see her shoulder's relax a miniscule amount.

Anna is paralyzed at the door. She feels as if this is the deciding moment in their relationship. This is Elsa slamming the door in her face once again.

Anna decides that this time, she'll stick her hands out and catch it.

With a confidence she does not quite possess, she strides over to the sink. She grabs a pot from the counter and submerges her hands next to Elsa's.

"So you graduated from high school with pretty high marks?"

Elsa nods stiffly, leaning cautiously over Anna to place her now clean pan into the clean section of water.

"You going somewhere big and important to be a doctor?"

Her head shakes no.

"Then what are you doing?"

Elsa shakes her head again, chin so low it's almost touching her collar bone.

"Ah, so you're going to be a mute translator. How sweet. I know the sign language alphabet, ya know. We could go into practice together. Hell, we'd have to. How would you be able to talk to the parents of the mutes if you won't even talk to your best friend?"

Elsa's face is composed still, trained on the bubbles enveloping her hand.

"You know, I could be good for you. I wouldn't judge you. And, just in case you happen to care at least a tiny bit about me, I did just lose everything I have and right now all I have is you, Elsa, but you can't even give me that."

Anna watches as Elsa's eyes close for a second too long.

Hopeful, she blunders on. "You haven't spoken to me in so long, and I need you. I need you, now, please."

Elsa shakes her head, turning her head fractionally away from Anna in a clear dismissal. Suddenly Elsa's hand, hidden beneath a shield of bubbles, infuriates Anna. She shouldn't be able to hide away, refuse to open up, and hurt Anna every day without even showing her full self. Anna plunges her hand beneath the surface and grips Elsa's hand. It shakes violently, and she tries to pull it out of Anna's unyielding grip.

"What did I ever do to you?"

"Enough, Anna," Elsa's voice is so calm and controlled it only infuriates Anna more.

"No," Anna can't take it any longer, "Why? Why do you shut me out?" She thinks of her parents, telling her how there are never other teens here. Maybe Elsa doesn't have a cool alter ego she hides from her parents. Maybe she really is a shut in. "Why do you shut the world out? What are you so afraid of?"

Elsa's hand is trembling with the force of an earthquake. Anna holds tight, refusing to let her hurt her any more without some sort of explanation. She didn't get one ten years ago, and she won't wait another decade for Elsa to come around.

"I said, enough!" she jerks her hand out of Anna's grip, in turn causing Anna to jerk forward, bang her elbow and slip clumsily on the ground.

The last thing Anna sees is Elsa's mortified eyes staring down at her, wide and filled with a sense of fear Anna has never seen in anyone, and her blonde hair as she runs out of the room.


	4. Conceal, Don't Feel

**TRIGGER WARNING: self-harm via scratching. If you prefer to skip this, stop reading at _0_ and continue reading at the next _0_. The entire chapter is super depressing/upsetting/angry, and it's pretty short, so feel free to skip it. It's published because I feel that it's important to Elsa's character. I think that there will be only one other occurrence like this one.**

Elsa's legs carry her swiftly through the halls, taking extra precaution to take the route past the library rather than the dining room. Although her parents expected this, she knows that they may be slightly taken aback to see their daughter storming through the halls.

Not that she cares what her parents think of her anymore. Or anyone, for that matter. She hates herself more than they ever could.

Her mind is a chaotic mess of harsh words, cruel reenactments of Anna falling, and memories from her past. It all rushes to the forefront of her mind, pushing for space, and it's all too much. One moment she watches her hand throwing Anna to the ground, the next a girl is slapping her, then confused teal eyes boring into hers, then onto an ice skating rink; all whilst harsh words scream at her accusingly. Her vision blurs in and out as it always does, and she makes it to her room just as her breathing increases beyond her ability to manage it. So much of her wants to run to her bed, pound on pillows, and scratch the sheets to shreds. Instead she forces her trembling hands to the lock on her door. This small action seems to drain the remaining will power from her, so much so that she cannot fathom taking another step, and she slides down against her door. Tears sting the back of her eyes, but she won't let them fall.

She doesn't bother with her mantra because there is no way she can make herself not feel this. Self-loathing consumes her from all directions. It scratches at her sides and threatens to break her into pieces. Although she would welcome this sort of death, her arms wrap themselves around her body to keep her from falling apart. It's almost encouraging to see her body fighting for her when her mind so desperately wants to crumble away.

_I'm breaking._

Elsa is terrified in that moment. She wants to be held, but she knows that she can't. She won't ever be held, or let another person touch her. Not emotionally, or physically. She will hurt them, just as she always does. She is more certain of that than anything.

All she wants is something to assure her that it will be alright. Even if she knows that it's not true.

_Destructive._

_**0**_

The word rings through her mind, and she claws at her forearms. She wants to destruct herself, to tear herself into pieces before her mind can.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." she chokes. Her throat is sobbing even while her eyes remain dry.

She hurt Anna at the age of five, and now she has hurt her again. This time she has her memory. This time, maybe Anna will hate her back. She hopes she will because it's so impossible to resist the one person she has been thinking about her entire life.

The scratches on her arms begin to bleed, but she can't bring herself to stop. She wants to get this terrible feeling out of her. She wants her skin to fall off and for all the filthiness that is herself to just leave. Although she has attempted to destruct herself before, it has never turned to blood.

Almost as if she had been in a reverie, Elsa snaps out of it and holds her elbows tight. The red that has begun to leak out of her like a spring makes her stomach church, so she hides it against her stomach and lets her dress soak up the blood. She shakily stands up, and makes her way over to her bed.

She curls into herself. The blanket between her teeth chokes her sobs. She knows that she's better than this. She can control it. As long as she leaves Anna alone, it will be okay. She doesn't have to feel this way.

Elsa looks down at her arms, already scabbing over. Even if it means never being happy, she will keep Anna safe.

_**0**_

Little does she know, Anna sits on the other side of the door. Straining to hear her best friend's strangled sobs, she lets her head fall against the door. "Its okay, Elsa," she whispers.

She doesn't hear anything more, and before long the younger girl finds herself nodding off. Head against the heard door, her eyes flutter closed, and sleep overcomes her.


	5. I've Got a Dream

Anna wakes up in a strange bed. Her eyes, glued together with sleep, struggle to open into the brightly lit room. She blinks up at a canopy bed, confused momentarily before the previous night comes flooding into her head. Arriving at a new home, falling asleep against Elsa's door...

She jerks up abruptly and blood rushes to her head with the sudden movement. She is expecting to be against Elsa's door, but is instead in the almost-foreign bed. Anna hasn't slept in it since she was five years old, at which time she had her very own blankies and teddy bears decorating the queen sized bed.

This is her new room. Warm, massive, with an empty side of the room that used to hold a bed for Elsa. Tears begin to cascade down her face, pausing on her upper lip before slowly filling her mouth with a salty flavour. She has never felt so completely alone. Without her bed, her books, her parents, her room, her best friend.

The air around her seems unnecessarily warm. Her hair is standing up in all directions from the strange humidity that surrounds her; normally her bed head would at least obey the laws of gravity. The heat beckons for her to stay out of her blankets rather than succumbing to her urge of crawling under the covers for several years.

She could. Nobody would blame her for it.

There's no reason to get out of bed, really. She has school to finish for the good of...well, extending her life comfortably. Kristoff is waiting for her to tell him all about her new home. Those are only the only two fragile threads pulling her to stand, and they struggle against the blocks of sadness that pin her to the bed.

Anna notices the slowing of her tears, and instead focuses on the ache of her muscles. She's not sure if it's the strain of everything that has her feeling so exhausted or the fact that she fell asleep erect against Elsa's door.

_God, that must have looked awkward to her parents._

A flush spreads across her face, but more of fear for Elsa than her own embarrassment. Her parents would have had to realize that she shut her out again. She hasn't ever known the Isens to be the angry type, but it isn't too hard to imagine her father berating her for rejecting the new house guest. Especially after they showed such a hopeful display at dinner.

It's funny how, even after another rejection, Anna feels no anger towards Elsa. Almost as if she's incapable of being mad at the girl. Something about the look in her eyes each time she hurts Anna, as if she herself is dying inside, makes Anna feel more guilty than upset with her.

She sighs, looking longingly at the welcoming blankets. It seems to be past eleven and she hasn't been woken up by Mrs. Isen... maybe she could just curl up in a ball and feel sorry for herself for the rest of the day without notice.

Anna shakes her head as the thought crosses her mind. She knows that it isn't an option, so she sits up and stretches as a yawn escapes her lips. She runs a hand through her hair and finds the mane she wakes up to each time she falls asleep with her hair down.

As she pulls on her clothes—a pair of leggings and a crewneck—she decides what she's going to do about Elsa. Because she knows that she can't leave the scared creature that Elsa has become alone without a single friend. Even if she is going to push away to the point of agony, Anna will get through to her. She knows she will.

Her parents are out at work, so she doesn't even go by the kitchen before walking down the hall to Elsa's room. She knocks on it energetically, hoping that she could at least startle Elsa into speaking to her.

It doesn't work.

"So I get that you're angry or maybe scared. Maybe scared makes more sense cause I don't think you really get angry, and it wasn't that bad until I was dumb and grabbed your hand," Anna says through the door, hoping this will be enough to get a response.

"And you don't even like physical contact so that was kinda dumb of me," Anna continues when she doesn't get a response, "I don't know why I said all that mean stuff, except maybe that I miss you a lot and I just wish you missed me too." The truth of her own words sting. She just wants Elsa to feel the same way; to want to hold her and know everything about her and love her the way that she does. Or, at least, a fraction as much as she does.

When the older girl doesn't respond, she sighs and leans her forehead against the door. She imagines Elsa in the same position on the other side of the door, even if it is just an unrealistic fantasy.

"Elsa, you know that I love you. It's okay to be scared of whatever it is you're scared of and, uh, I'll help you be un-scared of that thing if you let me. God, this sounds dumb. I'll, uh, stop now. But if you wanna come out so we can talk about it, that'd be great."

Anna stands there, hardly breathing, until she counts to 600. Then, with a sigh, she bounds down the stairs and into the kitchen.

* * *

A short while later she knocks again at the pale blue door. "Elsa, I made you some waffles. I know you like them because of that one fit you threw over pancakes and also everyone likes waffles, so you better eat them. I'm putting syrup out here with it. I know you don't want to talk to me, so I figured you might starve if I didn't bring you something. And I, uh, don't want that."

Anna feels ridiculous and looks down at her feet. "I, uh, hope that your parents weren't mad at you. And if they were, I hope you told them I was a meanie butt. I'm gonna tell them when they get home, too."

There's still no response. "Okay, well, I'm, uh, gonna go read or whatever. Just come into my room if you want...there's no need to knock. I'd just let you in anyway."

* * *

Anna finds herself wandering around the mansion, finding rooms she did not notice as a child. There are multiple studies, each with a desk and books about boring things like law and fishing. There are cupboards full of cleaning supplies, a laundry room, and a spare dining room she had never seen.

The entire time that she explores, she feels as if she's snooping. Every twenty minutes or so, she has to remind herself that it is her house. She doesn't have to be apologetic for looking around.

Eventually, after exploring every crevice of the house—aside from Elsa's room—Anna decides on spending her day in the library. There's a steep staircase at the back that goes up to an elevated reading section. She remembers climbing up there as a child, giggling, because it was so high up and where Elsa's parents left all the classic folktales. Ancient copies of Hansel and Grettle, The Hobbit, and thousands more were crammed into book cases.

Anna takes refuge on the floor, pulling The Princess Bride from the shelf randomly. She kicks her legs out so that they rest on the rail overlooking the library and her back is on the floor, and begins reading.

* * *

Elsa's parents are incredibly apologetic from the moment they walk in the door. They call out for Anna immediately, omitting Elsa's name, which strikes Anna as a bit odd. She wonders if they call out to Elsa every day to tell her that they're home, and today has been the only exception. And, if not, when they stopped doing so. When they gave up on her.

The moment that she appears at their doorway, book still in hand, they launch into a speech in which they insist that Elsa's mishap is all their fault. They say that they should have given her time to come out of her room and rekindle herself with Anna. The teal eyed girl shakes her head and attempts to tell them that she was being aggressive, but they won't take any of it.

"Dear, you've always been nothing but gentle to our Elsa," Mrs. Isen insists.

"I was just frustrated, I grabbed her hand. I think she got scared when she jerked away and I slipped. But it's not her fault, not at all. Just, uh, please don't' be mad at her."

The two give each other long looks. Anna watches Mr. Isen's grey green eyes fall to the floor with an expression she mistakes for shame. "We have gotten past the stage of anger," he says solemnly, still gazing at the floor. The way that he says that sentence sends a chill up Anna's spine. It is so solemn and without hope; his words have an almost dark undertone.

"Our girl," Mrs. Isen starts, "she hasn't been doing her best. No amount of anger, fear, motivation, or kindness seems to change that. We've tried everything."

"We were naïve enough to think that you would," Mr. Isen continues, and Anna begins to understand the look in his eyes. It's not shame, its guilt. To have raised a girl to be so scared of the world; to the point that she would hardly leave her room. He has given up, accepted her as a failure.

"I will," Anna finds herself saying. "Don't you worry, I'll bring your daughter around. I promise."

The two give her a look of sadness, shaking their heads. They know that she'll only get hurt. They have seen doctors, boys from school, even professors, reach out to Elsa and be shut away. Their precious Anna, who has already lost so much, should not go through such a process.

"I will," Anna says again, determination ringing through her words. She likes the sound so much that she says it again, before heading up the stairs and going past Elsa's bedroom.

She finds herself beaming when she sees a syrup bottle and an empty plate outside of Elsa's room.

"So you do like waffles," she confirms, just loud enough that Elsa can hear her. It's a start, at least.

**Do you guys prefer long or short chapters? I've been writing fairly long ones that could be broken up into smaller ones, and I'd like to know which you would prefer. PM me or just leave a review. Thanks!**


	6. A Real Gourmet Kitchen

Anna stands over the stove, hair frizzing from the steam in front of her. It doesn't bother her, though, for she's well used to it. She's been baking since she was eight years old, and has long since come to terms with its effect on her hair.

She delicately picks up the ramekin of custard and places it in the steaming water. More basic recipes call to put the custard in lukewarm water before placing it in the oven, as to avoid burns, but Anna is nothing but thorough when it comes to cooking.

Slipping on a pair of oven mits, she balances the large baking dish and slips it into the oven. She lets out a breath the moment it is out of her hands. Being a klutz tends to get her into more trouble than she'd like while doing her favourite activity. Especially when the recipe involves almost completely submerging bowls in water.

She has about forty minutes until she has to do anything else, so she slowly gathers brown sugar, a torch, and some fresh fruit. The crème brulée is more of a therapeutic activity than purposeful, but she intends on serving it. There's no point in wasting food.

While cooking, the constant weight that hangs over her shoulders lifts. She's unsure whether this is because she feels closest to her parents here, or if it just distracts her. While focussing on school work or a book is difficult for lengths longer than five minutes, cooking for hours makes her feel like herself.

Unsure of Elsa's favourite fruit, she takes the familiar root to her doorway. After a week of silence, she should have given up hope, but Elsa is all that she has left.

"So I've got blueberries, strawberries, banana, and mango. For your crème brulée."

As per usual, there is no response.

"It's not like I can _guess _your favourite fruit. You used to like mango, but that would probably taste super weird. So I'm veto-ing that one. What about whipped cream?"

Silence answers her. The pang on her heart is dulled by the fact that she wasn't really expecting a response.

With a huff, Anna turns away. She has pestered Elsa with much more important and much less important things this past week, but is always greeted with silence. There's always a chance that Elsa isn't even there. Anna's not sure how she could manage to get out of the house, but she wouldn't put it past the older girl to sneak out of her window just to get something to eat.

With the extra time, Anna mixes some cut strawberries with sugar in preparation for tonight's desert, and cleans all the materials she can. The Isens always insist that they or Elsa could clean up, as Anna is certainly outdoing herself by even making them treats, but Anna doesn't mind. Cleaning has been engrained into her as much as cooking has been.

Like always, Anna finds herself checking the desert every two minutes once it's been thirty five minutes. Her mother always chastised her for this habit, as it loses heat and just makes the food take longer. Maybe the hint of a smile that never left her mom's face is the reason Anna still does it to this day.

After forty three minutes, Anna resolves to take the custards out.

The treats are for tomorrow, as they're supposed to sit overnight, but she has a bad habit of eating whatever she makes immediately. This wasn't so much berated by her mother as it was encouraged. The pair always managed to eat about a quarter of whatever they were making before her father came home.

Tears spring from her eyes, as they always do when she realizes that she will never do that again. This realization dawns on Anna about fifty times a day. Whether reading a book, sharpening a pencil, or making her bed, memories tend to spring up. She supposes they always did, but they didn't hurt before. The problem is, she's done just about everything with her parents by her side. Everything she does has them tied into it.

It's not that she minds thinking of her parents. In fact, she often tries to in fear of forgetting them. Most of the time, though, the thoughts result in nausea or fits of sobbing.

Memories of cooking, however, seem to be an exception to this rule. This activity will always belong to them. It isn't lessened by the time that has passed. She doesn't fear that these sentiments will fade, for they are knowledge and not memory. Everything she knows about baking, even the recipes she knows, were taught to her by her mother. It wasn't her career, but it was her favourite hobby.

She places the baking dish on a heat resistant mat that she brought from her old house, removes the two ramekins closest to her, puts them to the side, and places the rest in the fridge. After cleaning up the rest of the kitchen, she gets to work on the two she set aside.

She sprinkles a healthy—or, rather, unhealthy—coating of brown sugar atop the custard. It sits happily on top while she caramelizes it. Anybody who had seen Anna outside the kitchen would never dare to give her a torch, but she manages it with ease.

The redhead resolves to leave her own without any fruit, as they are out of the raspberries she prefers, but decorates Elsa's with five blueberries. She tries to arrange them in a smiling face, but whenever she picks it up they slide around.

Anna carefully walks to Elsa's door, and places the crème brulée on the ground outside her door, slightly to the left so that Elsa immediately sees it if she so much as cracks open the door.

"Your crème brulée is here. It will be better tomorrow, cause you're supposed to let it sit. I just thought you would probably want some now, since you've only eaten waffles today. Speaking of which, how are you feeling about oatmeal? That could be for tomorrow."

This time, Anna only waits half a minute for a response.


	7. I'm Wishing

Anna drags herself into the washroom with a herculean effort. In fact, she would not be surprised if somebody had tied invisible weights to her in her sleep. Her eyelids are heavy with months of sleepless nights. They all pile onto each other until she seems to be enlisting the most part of her brain into keeping them open.

Consequently, the rest of her body is suffering from severe clumsiness. With her entire brain capacity being focused on staying at least upright and awake, her balance is on its own. For Anna, the result could be detrimental.

Despite tripping on a completely flat rug, Anna makes it to the washroom adjacent to her room without an injury. She slams the door a tad too loudly behind her, and she cringes. It's as if her life is now a constant state of hangover.

The girl staring at her in the mirror is unfamiliar in an eerie way. Anna hardly knows her, yet for the past few months it has been she who stares back at her from the reflective surface. Anna has always been the best of sleepers, but in light of recent events she has gotten approximately two hours of sleep a night.

Lack of sleep, somehow, hallows out all parts of herself. A bag of cosmetics lies out in front of her, and she gets to work.

It takes fifteen minutes, but in the end she looks like a functioning human being. Her hair is as uncooperative as ever, so she puts it up in a messy, five-second bun. It is one of her two signature hair styles. Some people may try to look exceptionally nice on their first day back after several months, but she figures that her classmates will expect much worse after hearing the news.

The door to the washroom swings open suddenly, and Anna yelps.

"Oh," Elsa says, eyes wide. Her cheeks are dusted with pink. She scans Anna's body, as if looking for any sort of indecency that she may have exposed herself too. Finding none, a look of relief washes over her. "Sorry."

Elsa, somehow, manages to look gorgeous before she even looks into a mirror. Her hair, even while dishevelled, manages to frame her face. The bright blue of her eyes compliments platinum blonde hair in a startling way. Anna's not sure if she's ever properly observed them as a pair, and vows to do so more often.

It's only when she notices her lean, pale legs hardly hidden by a pair of cotton shorts, that Anna realizes what she's doing. She looks away quickly, and touches her cheeks automatically. They're pulsing with heat, and she hopes that Elsa hasn't noticed.

"Don't worry about it," Anna answers softly. These are the first words Elsa has said since the disastrous dinner. While Anna rises at one in the afternoon, Elsa does so at six or seven in the morning. By the time Anna has risen, Elsa is either out of the house or in her bedroom. Anna can never tell, for Elsa seems to have some method of leaving the house which she cannot detect.

Elsa nods, but does not turn away. Anna takes this as a good sign.

"So have you been enjoying my snacks? I never know when you're going to be out of your bedroom, so I've been leaving whatever I bake outside of your room. I would love to know your favourite because I'm sure you have one, and then you could have it. I mean, I would make it for you. Not all the time, but at least sometimes. Cause with school starting I might actually have a life besides, like, sitting outside your room." Anna cringes. "Or, um, other things. That's not all I do. So, I mean, if you have one, just let me know."

Elsa blinks at her.

"If you don't want to talk, then just write or something. I mean, I know I like to talk. Clearly. Or else I would have shut up by now. Which I should, I guess." Anna stops to breathe, but the blonde remains unmoving. "But, um, what I meant to say, is that I'd like to hear from you. Even if you're not the best talker. Not that you're not a good talker. You just might like to write more. Which is cool. Your parents say you use the internet a lot, so you could even email me, or facebook me, or give me your tumblr if you have one, or something? God, that sounded creepy—"

"Anna," Elsa interrupts.

"Right. The shutting up bit. I'll do that." Miraculously, Anna manages to quiet herself.

Elsa takes a deep breath. Anna's eyes shine in hope that she will say something of worth. Something like "sorry" or "you don't have to shut up" or even "treacle tart".

"When will you be done with the washroom? I'm not in a rush, but my classes start in an hour as well."

Anna feels disappointment overcome her.

_At least she's talking to you._

"Wait." A sudden realization dawns upon her. "Classes?"

Elsa lets out a small breath that could be either a startled, exasperated sigh, or a stifled laugh. "University. Despite my intentions, I am a part of the functioning world."

"You..." Anna pauses. "Like, go to classes and stuff?"

"I know that I shut the world out," Elsa says with humour that still manages to strike at Anna's heart. The fact that Elsa remembers what she said—those rude, thoughtless words—makes her wonder if maybe she did care, and how much she hurt her. _Though she hurt you more. _"But how could the valedictorian not attend university?"

"Yeah."

Elsa continues to look at her, pondering. Anna finds it difficult to distinguish between her amusement and judgement.

"Which university do you go to, then?"

"Cambridge."

Anna, who has paused all attempts at getting ready to talk to her ex-best friend, manages to stub her toe whilst remaining mostly stationary. "What?"

Elsa offers another smirk. "I've been attending classes the entire time you've been staying here, Anna. It just so happens that I prefer to be awake while the sky is."

The redhead wants to respond, but her sleep-ridden brain can only focus on the way that Elsa said her name, and the fact that she said 'staying here'. As if Anna's existence is some sort of temporary arrangement that she will soon be rid of.

Anger flames up inside of Anna, but she pushes it down. She doesn't want to push Elsa away, not again.

"Oh."

"Anyway," Elsa says, apparently only now noticing that she has formed a full length conversation. Her arms come up to grip her torso, and her eyes flit around the washroom in attempt to avoid Anna. "I can wait."

She backs up, slowly and politely at first. The moment that Anna opens her mouth, however, Elsa turns on her heel and walks at a pace approaching a sprint to her bedroom.

"Nice talk!" Anna yells out after her. The blonde doesn't even pause before slamming her bedroom door behind her.

The ornate white and blue door shudders on its hinges.

"Shit," Anna mumbles to herself. She has one conversation with the girl she so wants to bring back to her life, and she manages to end it sourly. Just because she reacted poorly to her _wording. _A groan escapes her lips, and she pounds the toothbrush drawer of the sink closed with extra force.

She spends a few more moments observing herself in the mirror, making the minutest changes, before she decides that there really is nothing else that can be done about her appearance. The confrontation adds an extra pathetic layer to her image, and Anna has the urge to shatter the mirror in front of her. She shakes her head, and takes calming breaths. Hopefulness is not the same as stupidity.

The girl in the mirror raises an eyebrow at her dubiously. With Elsa, it might be. After all, ten years is more than enough time to cement a personality. By now, Anna is searching for something that is buried by miles of memories.

Anna pushes open the door with care, as if Elsa could be on the other side once again. She is not. The redhead sighs.

Stupidity.

* * *

_I am such an idiot._

Elsa paces around her room, rearranging a misplaced item once every few seconds. Her room is startling clean, but in her mindset even a book that is not in exact alphabetical order punches her in the gut.

She has a calendar in her bedroom, yet somehow the date of Anna's first day of school managed to slip her mind. Perhaps she can memorize every element on the periodic table, but she will never be able to remember the small details that could make her life a thousand times more convenient.

_After making so much progress, too._

Anna had only sat outside her room for ten minutes the day before. Chocolate chip cookies in toe, she had sat outside her room and outlined her day. As per usual, she had asked if Elsa wanted hot chocolate. When she didn't get a response, Elsa had heard Anna's feet retreating to her bedroom. Then, the empty cookie plate Elsa had left outside her door had disappeared without even a word from Anna. Elsa had heard her footsteps, but nothing else.

The progress was just as useful in protecting Anna as it was in shielding Elsa. It hurt her, every day, to hear Anna say the things she wished to be true. Anna constantly told her how much she loved her, and how much she missed her. It struck Elsa harshly for these things to be true, yet not in the way that they were for Elsa. Additionally, it had made it exceptionally difficult for Elsa to get much work done.

Maybe, someday, Elsa will have the self-restraint that she convinces herself she has, but today does not seem to be that day. The moment Anna appears before her, all of her self-taught distancing leaves her mind. Elsa wishes she understood why. What it was about the clumsy, goofy, babbling redhead that seemed to both fix and baffle everything. If she did, she could train herself to ignore it.

Though, maybe not. Elsa's been trying to rid herself of these feelings for nine years. Not for Anna, as she was only an obscure beauty that bounced in and out of her life every other Sunday. There were girls, however, from the moment she started secondary school. She remembers telling her mother about it. Shy, shocked, and confused, Elsa had known there was something different about her crushes, but not something _wrong_. The shock that had passed over her mother's face confirmed her worst nightmares. Without missing a beat, she had been told that it had to be a secret. Elsa, only thirteen at the time, couldn't understand the consequences.

Then, years later, her father read through her journal. Sixth form, and Elsa had become withdrawn to the point of social anxiety. Her father had worried. _As any would, _Elsa convinces herself. What he found, however, warranted the sting of a slap in the face, and bellowing of words that still shout at her.

_Cursed_, he had called her. _An abomination._

She knew he was right. Those words, repeated and added upon for over a year, became a part of who she was. When she's upset, those words are there to reassure her. To keep her close to the ground so that she won't fall far each time she is told the truth.

Elsa wishes that she shouted as much as she did inside her own head. Then, perhaps, she would lose her voice for good. The words that circle her mind would be the only time she heard her own voice. She would be forced into accepting her truth, into knowing that she cannot become any better. The hope that refuses to leave, that speaks to Anna when she runs into her, would not be able to win then.

She continues to pace around her room, which seems to have grown colder. As per usual, her stress turns her blood cold and her body rigid. The blonde does not trust herself to rearrange her bedroom any longer. The anger that swirls within herself is enough to terrify her. For all she knows, she could destruct everything.

Suddenly, Elsa hears a door close. It's soft, barely audible, but she hears it.

_Anna._

She takes a deep breath, and clutches at the material of her jeans.

Elsa is not rash. She is tired, angry, and confused. But she is not violent. She is not dangerous.

_I am not dangerous._

Taking one last breath, Elsa pushes open her door and brings herself to the washroom where she broke her own promise.

* * *

**Do you get it yet? Every chapter is named after a disney song. Mostly cause I'm a perfectionist loser who likes to make things more difficult than they are. Anyway, yeah, this one's from Snow White.**

**Let me know what you think of the story, what you'd like to see more of, etc. Hans and Olaf are coming soon, as well as some fluff... The angst won't last forever.**


	8. Treason

Anna swears that every single pair of eyes is trained on her as she walks down the hall. Typically, only three or four people glance in her direction. Maybe half the hallway when she spills her books on the floor for the fourth time in a day.

When somebody disappears for two and a half months, it seems as if word spreads.

The worst part is the pity that is thrown at her. She prefers the amusement, even if it is often mixed with ridicule. Anna has come to terms with her clumsiness, and all her oddities. She doesn't think it's possible to come to terms with losing her parents, and she doesn't look forward to being reminded of it every day at school as well as when she goes to her new home.

For the first time in her life, Anna keeps her head down.

That is, until she is rammed into with full force by a mass of exuberant muscles.

"Feisty pants!" Kristoff grabs the small girl and picks her up until their faces are at an even level. Light brown eyes scan Anna's face delightedly. "I've—we've all—missed you."

A smile blooms across Anna's face, and she giggles. "Kris!"

"C'mon, Mr. Blooms is fucking pumped to see you. He never gets this excited about anything besides erosion or whatever."

"Awesome!"

A big, burly arm wraps around her back. "Seriously, how's it going?" Anna shrugs minutely, but she knows he feels it. He sighs. "Yeah."

"But everything gets better. I'm getting better. And I mean, Elsa's talked to me. Twice. It's not all bad. Not that it makes things okay, really, like I wouldn't want it to happen again. Not that it could cause—" Anna stops abruptly. Tears flood her eyes. She looks up and bites her lip. "But you know me."

"Ya look on the bright side," Kristoff finishes for her.

Kristoff fills his best friend in on the latest geography lessons. Despite Anna's absence, she gets the gist. She read half the textbook, researched some topics, and studied a map of South America, so in this subject, at least, she's not tragically behind.

The pair makes their way down the hall, turning only a few corners until they get to Mr. Blooms' classroom. The longer she walks with Kristoff, the less she feels eyes on her. Perhaps there are less, as the pair is so common that it hardly warrants a second glance, or maybe it's the calming effect he has on Anna. The fears of a few moments ago seem to disappear.

"I feel more like me when you're here," Anna admits, leaning further into her best friend. "I missed you."

"I know."

* * *

Anna hasn't the slightest idea what Ms. Mason is talking about. She managed to make her way through geography, English, history, and even biology. Sitting in chemistry, however, Anna is completely lost.

"Wait," Anna says for the fourth time since Ms. Mason came over to her table. "So you have to add the moles of carbon with what?"

Ms. Mason gives Anna a patient smile. "Fluorine. So once you do that, you have to divide it by the lowest number from your earlier equations."

Anna's head spins. She searches the paper, but her eyes can't seem to find which equation could possibly relate to what she's doing. It must be under the label "4", but there are already five steps previous to where her pencil now rests.

"Yeah," Anna says, refusing to give up. She was given a textbook, notes, and practice exercises while she was taking two months off. It was all read, mostly at two in the morning when she couldn't sleep, and there are pages of crumpled up exercises in the room she stayed in at her aunt's house, as well as at the Isen's. There is no reason that she shouldn't understand this, yet it eludes her more acutely than the faeries she searched for as a child.

Ms. Mason continues, and Anna's eyes try their best to keep up with her pencil, but she can't. Her words blend into each other until it becomes background noise. When her teacher finishes with the explanation, Anna smiles widely and nods in appreciation.

The moment she walks away, however, her head pounds down on the desk.

"Get a tutor," Pocahontas suggests from the seat behind Anna.

Anna groans. "Is it that obvious?"

"Kind of, but it's nothing to be embarrassed about," Pocahontas says with a smile. "I'm not doing very well, either. Honestly, I don't know why I took this class. I'll help you when I can, though."

"Thanks."

Anna is too prideful to ask Belle or Aladdin. She's sure that Belle, at least, would help, but she wants to give herself a week before running to her like usual. Instead, the redhead continues to make excruciatingly slow progress, which mostly consists of re-reading notes for the umpteenth time, until the bell rings.

Immediately, Anna springs up and practically runs across the hall to French class. Her French, while poor and certainly influent, is passable and is easy to practice. Her cousin, Rapnuzel, is fluent in the language, and the two conversed in it while she stayed at her house. Grammar has never been her strong suit, but they only learned two tenses while she was away.

This, at least, doesn't hurt her head.

* * *

"Friggity frack," Anna sighs, crumpling up her ninth piece of paper. From the moment she arrived home from school, she locked herself in her room with a chemistry textbooks. All of her teachers gave her no deadlines for any projects or homework she had outstanding, so she has promised to dedicate the week to at least kind of understanding moles.

So far, she has at least figured out that it's not short for molecules.

There's a knock on her door. Anna sighs in relief. "Yeah?"

"Supper's ready," Ms. Isen says.

"Coming!" Anna says eagerly, springing off her bed. While chemistry may cause her to thinking of suicide, food has never failed to lift her spirits. She skids past Elsa's bedroom with barely a thought; the girl has only joined them for a meal one time.

Dinner consists of the redhead answering many questions about her first day back. They roll off her tongue easily, and she doesn't stumble once. After living with the Isens for over half a month now, she is no longer conscious of her ability to hold a conversation alone. In fact, it proves useful with the Isens quiet demeanor. They laugh at all the appropriate spots, and sigh at the others. When it comes to chemistry, however, the couple pauses and exchange a knowing look.

"Well that's certainly an easy fix," Mr. Isen chuckles.

"Huh?" Anna attempts to say through a mouthful of potatoes.

"Chemistry," he answers, "has always been Elsa's best subject. As a matter of fact, she still studies it."

"She does?" Anna is still attempting to swallow, and chokes a tad.

"My word, and I thought she was exaggerating when she said you never talked," Mrs. Isen tutted. "The girl is studying materials science."

Anna blinks in confusion.

"Materials science," Mr. Isen explains, "is the study of the composition of materials, more or less. As I'm sure you've noticed, Elsa doesn't really talk much. We only understand what her degree outline tells us. Her courses include chemistry quite exstensively, however, and she received a perfect score on her last exam in the subject."

Anna is glad that she has managed to swallow her potatoes, for she is certain that they would be strewn across the table.

The adults laugh once again.

"I'm sure she's attempted to frighten you off—" Mr. Isen starts.

"—as she does with everybody she likes," Mrs. Isen interjects.

"But give it a go. She's quite good with words, when she wants to be."

"Perfect score in English too, then?" Anna pouts.

"Not quite. English is a bit tricky on the definition of perfect."

The redhead rolls her eyes. Inwardly, excitement is brewing, and she can hardly contain the smile that is making its way onto her face. This is a subject that Elsa cannot reject her of.

"Would you mind if I were excused to talk to her about it?"

"Not at all, dear," Mrs. Isen says.

With hurried thanks, Anna jumps out of her chair and leaps towards Elsa's room. Only when she is standing in front of the white door does she think to get her chemistry materials. She sprints to her bedroom, gathers her supplies hurriedly, and runs back. She knocks quickly, hardly conscious that she used the same pattern she did as a child.

There's no response.

"Elsa, I need to talk to you. I'm not going to bother you about your life or what type of food you like or anything uncomfortable. I just want to pass chemistry, and I've heard you're my best hope."

Anna stands outside the door to the count of ten. She sighs, and knocks again.

"Elsa. Seriously, open up the door. I might not be Miss. Perfect like you, but I can't fail. Or, I guess I can, but I hope not. You're my only hope."

She waits for another few seconds.

Suddenly, the door clicks open.

Elsa is wearing dorky, rectangular glasses that take up half her face. The smile from earlier reappears instantaneously on Anna's face at the sight. It may be the cutest thing she has seen in years. She restrains herself from reacting, and focuses on her task.

"I'm supposed to learn how to use moles. You're supposed to get percentages and yield and grams and stuff from them. It's pretty basic, I think, but I don't get it."

Elsa gives her a sideways smirk from behind the door. "I've heard."

"Yeah, so could you—wait, what?"

"You're quite vocal when you study."

Anna flushes, remembering her cursing the periodic table for having so many different numbers on it, among other things.

"I was tempted to assist you the moment I heard your, well, um, complaints, should I say? I had to finish constructing a crystalline structure for a lab tomorrow, though, so I thought better of it." Anna can tell that Elsa is lying, even while her tone is genuine.

"Did you finish the, uh, crystalline thing?"

Elsa shrugs. "I never really finish anything." She slips out of her bedroom now, closing the door tightly behind her so that Anna doesn't have a chance to peer in. "Anyway, enough about that. Let's get you caught up."

Elsa begins walking without any warning. Anna stands, blinking, after her, before realizing that she's supposed to follow.

Following Elsa, she realizes once again how gorgeous the girl truly is. More than her blue eyes and clear skin, or even the way her hair looks flawless no matter how it's styled. She's so thin that it seems as if she wouldn't have curves, but seeing the way her leggings curve suggests otherwise. Anna's stomach flips. She's unfamiliar with these thoughts. They're more than welcome, as they do nothing more than cause her skin to turn pink and make her feel all light inside, but she turns her eyes away in any case. Elsa, who can barely stand to look at her, clearly doesn't share the attraction.

The two descend a flight of stairs, go through a wide set of doors, and enter the massive library in which Elsa spent much of her childhood. The redhead breathes in the smell of books, and can hear Elsa doing the same ahead of her. She often wonders whether Elsa spent all her time in this room due to convenience or for the soothing qualities of the simple yet elegant room.

The dark chestnut bookshelves reach up to ceilings the height of the entire mansion. Wooden ladders lean against the bookshelf that contains family heirlooms, ready to be used.

Elsa sits down on large, fluffy burgundy couch near the unlit fire. It sinks beneath her weight, holding her shape in a way that suggests familiarity. Anna's breath hitches at the elegance that seems to radiate off of Elsa. Despite being submerged in couch, her posture is as good as ever. The ghost of happiness lies across her features, and her half smile is completely at peace.

Anna stands awkwardly in front of the couch, eyes flitting from the spot beside Elsa and the armchair a few metres away. Only once Elsa readjusts herself and meets her gaze does Anna, without any warning, launch into the cushion next to Elsa's. For a moment, her arm brushes against Elsa's. A flush crosses both of the girls' cheeks, and Anna jumps away.

"So," Anna yells. The blonde winces. "Chemistry."

"Right," Elsa says a few decibels lower. "Show me what you've got."

Anna reluctantly opens the chemistry book. She's happy to be spending time with Elsa, especially while it will result in better marks, but it doesn't stop the immediate headache the equations gives her.

Slowly, Elsa begins to point out equations on the page. She commands that Anna write them down, circling them lightly in pencil so that the younger girl doesn't get lost. Elsa flips page to page, going in no particular order, as though she wrote the book herself. After writing down an equation, the two solve a short practice problem. Then, they slowly add another step. Elsa answers each of Anna's questions, and for the second last step she repeats the explanation upwards of five times until Anna can do it herself.

After an hour of this, Anna is able to at least convert moles to molecules and grams. They've even made headway into percentage of yield.

"It makes _sense,_" Anna says in wonder, when Elsa decides that they've done enough for a night.

Elsa's eyes gleam. "I knew you had it in you."

"Thank you."

"It's the least that I could do. I may be terrible at everything else—" Anna opens her mouth to argue. "No, don't correct me—but I'll always be willing to help with this. If I do it as a TA, there's no reason I wouldn't do it with you."

Anna smiles widely at her, and nudges Elsa's foot with hers. Elsa's jerks away before slowly relaxing to rest below Anna's.

"I really do like you, Anna." The redhead blinks at her. Elsa takes a deep breath. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

A long silence ensues. Anna wonders how, possibly, this could be true. There is sincerity in Elsa's voice that the younger girl knows well, but she doesn't understand it. Surely, Elsa has had other friends. She couldn't possibly care about Anna in the same intrigued way that Anna cares about her. If so, she wouldn't have spent so long hiding.

Anna stares at the fireplace ahead of her. She now wishes that she had lit it, so that the room would be filled with crackling rather than silence. The quiet has never boded well with Anna. Even so, she does not interrupt it. There is happiness in her heart, albeit confused, that she does not want to shed quite yet.

The room remains silent. Anna steals repeated glances at the older girl, but their eyes do not meet. She wonders what she's thinking. Maybe, Anna fears, she's regretting saying what she did.

Anna extends her hand a few centimetres, and grips Elsa's fingers. She twines their fingers together, and is shocked when Elsa doesn't pull away. Rather, the blonde shifts her gaze to look at the hands, and a full smile forms on her beautiful face.

Once linked, Anna doesn't dare move her hand. Her stomach is lurching in a way that is both sickening and exciting. She doesn't understand why Elsa has such an effect on her. It's been so many years that she can't remember if this is how it has always been.

"You know you're still my best friend, yeah?" Anna asks.

Pink brushes every area of Elsa's visible skin. Her head jerks up and down in a motion so fast that Anna hardly catches it.

The two sit on the couch for a while longer. Neither have any concept of the time. The sky outside is dark, as it has been since they stopped studying. Neither girl cares, nor do they wish to break the peace that has finally fallen between them.

* * *

Elsa isn't sure if she's breathed in the past hour. She's not quite sure what compelled her to tell Anna the truth—that of course she still loves her and that nothing is her fault and that she doesn't _want _to be the selfish bitch that she is—but ever since something has shifted. It's the shift that Elsa has always wanted, but has equally feared. Now, there is nothing between Anna and herself.

For something that could be so detrimental, Elsa certainly feels an incredible amount of joy, as she always does in Anna's presence. The warm, safe feeling that she gets around her best friend is the very reason that she tends to blurt out irresponsibly true statements that she can't take back.

_You have to deal with your consequences now._

Elsa wishes she cared more about the consequences. She knows that she will once she can no longer feel Anna's heat radiating off of her. They may be severe, and they will harm Anna. It was never herself that Elsa wanted to save. Part of her wishes that she had printed up a "terms and conditions" paper, so that Anna knew what she was getting into.

Even with the best of intentions, Elsa hurts people. She hurts herself, she hurts her family, and she hurts Anna.

With those thoughts in mind, one would think that Elsa would pull away when Anna began to lean into her. Instead, her heart starts to beat so wildly that it is partially survival instincts that commands her body to stay still. Anna's cheek lies against her shoulder, and Elsa can feel her smile.

"Your shirt is soft," Anna mumbles against the plaid.

At least a quarter of the shirts that Elsa wears in the spring are plaid, and she's glad that today was one of the days she wore it. The only thing better would have been to wear a tank top, so that she could feel Anna's mouth against her skin.

_No, you sick pervert. She just wants to be friends._

Elsa snaps back to reality as suddenly as she slipped away from it.

"We," Elsa stumbles for an excuse. "We have to go to bed."

"I _am _going to bed," Anna says. She brings her hands up to cling to Elsa's arm.

"No, to real bed. We have school."

Elsa stands up, bringing Anna with her for a brief moment, before the younger girl slips back down to the couch with an 'oof'.

The girl's eyes snap open, and Elsa tries to ignore the hurt that flashes in them.

"I just got you back," Anna says softly.

"Yes, well," Elsa says in way of a response. She turns and begins to walk towards her bedroom.

"You said I was your best friend," Anna says from behind her. She's keeping pace perfectly.

"You are," Elsa answers softly, spinning around. On the staircase, she is several heads taller than Anna.

_You're my best friend, but I can't talk to you._

Anna climbs up the stairs so that the two are even. "Then don't shut me out."

Elsa's heart tugs, and she resists the urge to throw up. _I don't want to, _she wants to say. _I want you to fall asleep on my shoulder and spend every moment with me._

_ But I can't._

The blonde shakes her head, and moves to walk away.

Anna grabs her hand. This time, she will not let her leave. The beautiful girl jerks to a stop, and takes a breath so deep it moves her shoulders. She could rip her hand away, but she does not.

Elsa's eyes—exasperated and confused—meet Anna's.

Without thinking, even more so than usual, Anna pulls Elsa forwards until she crashes into her. The move could have been fatal, sending them sprawling down the stairs. By some stroke of luck, Anna falls back against the rail of the staircase so that she is trapped between it and Elsa.

With Anna's stomach and breasts pressed against hers, Elsa can feel her breaths. They are startled and fast, yet the girl has not yet pulled away. Rather, she keeps her hand locked on Elsa's so that the older girl can't pull away.

The blonde keeps her face turned away from Anna's. She knows that it is composed perfectly, as it would if she were sculpted as a statue, but she doesn't trust it to stay that way. Especially not if she looks at the adorable girl practically on top of her. Every inch of her skin that is in contact with Anna's tingles.

Being pressed against someone, however, makes it difficult to avoid eye contact. Especially when neither party is willing to move away.

When Elsa's eyes meet Anna's, she knows that her emotions light up her face.

_I want you._

All control falls from her face, as suddenly as a dropped mask. The bare material that's left is both desperate fear and longing.

Her wide eyes flit across Anna's face from her small ears, her button nose, her teal eyes, her lips, her eyes, and her lips again. Their breathing hitches at precisely the same moment.

Blue eyes stare into each other for a long moment. Dozens of questions dart between them in those seconds. Neither is willing to blink.

And then, as suddenly and inexplicably as it started, it's over.

Elsa leans back minutely, and Anna shifts her weight so that their faces are at least a foot apart. Elsa swallows, and is too shocked to be conscious of her massive eyes and slightly open lips.

Anna breaks the silence.

"I—"

"Better be off."

"Yeah."

"Well, I—"

"See ya later?"

"Of course."

It's Anna, this time, who turns and runs first.


	9. When I Went Home

Elsa stands in the middle of the staircase. Mouth open, she counts her breaths. In for five, hold for seven, out for five. Elsa read somewhere that the breathing rhythm is supposed to stop panic attacks. Or, in her case, allow her to calmly walk to her bedroom.

_What just happened?_

Tonight has been disastrous, but she knows that she can't take it back. She told Anna that she still likes her. She almost _kissed _her. If Anna hasn't caught onto her attraction, then she at least knows that she doesn't hate her. That much was said outright.

Whether she can handle it or not, Elsa is going to be seeing a lot more of the fiery redhead.

"Elsa?"

The blonde whirls around, startled. Her father is looking up at her from the bottom of the staircase, his face a mask of confusion. Her stomach churns. She might as well be wearing jail garb for the guilt on her face.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm—well—walking."

He starts to come up the stairs, a stern look on his face. She knows that he doesn't believe her. After all, she's _not _walking. She's been completely stationary for about five minutes, just trying to regain her composure.

He is level to her now, and Elsa thinks that she might throw up. He's looking down at her the same way that he always does. Disappointment floods his features, and his eyes are speculating.

"I'm not—"

"Funnily enough, Anna just ran upstairs from this spot."

Elsa winces. She doesn't know what to say. Clearly, he knows. He knows she's infatuated with her. That she's made her uncomfortable. She thinks she's going to be sick. Before or after he reprimands her, she's not sure.

"Please tell me you're not still ignoring her."

A relieved breath escapes her lips. "No, no, of course not! I was helping her with chemistry."

Her father gives a slow nod. "Yes, I did suggest that she find you."

Elsa observes her father. His eyebrows are still scrunched in suspicion. If he sent Anna to her, then why was he wondering why they were together?

"I just." He sighs. "I haven't seen you interact with anyone in years. I just hope it's polite, still, and that you've dealt with that issue of yours—"

"Yes," Elsa lies. "I have."

"Well." His face clears, and he offers her half a smile. "Then there's nothing more to say. Just keep it civil."

Bile rises in Elsa's throat. She nods, in fear of actually throwing up. He lifts his hand, and she winces. He lowers it gently, however, to rest on her shoulder.

"Goodnight, Elsa." His voice shows no sign of affection. It stings Elsa's heart, though it shouldn't. He hasn't really shown her any love since the incident with the journal so many years ago. Just that one time, when she agreed to see Anna. When all this confusion began to get so much worse. Before, Elsa had been content to be alone with her studies and gaming for the rest of her life.

Now, she has a constant craving for a tall, beautiful redhead who talks too much and makes her feel like she's dying and finally living at the same time.

She knows he's right to feel the way that he does. To protect her from herself. To defend the family from the shame of having her on their tree. But it doesn't hurt any less.

Elsa watches her father walk away. Down the stairs, and left into the living room.

_I'm sorry for disappointing you._

* * *

**Hey guys, I know there's been a LOT of angst. This is to follow suit with the actual plot of Frozen. Don't worry, this the last one like that. They're going to get increasingly light from here. There soon will be loads of fluff & smut & all that good stuff.**

**_In the mean time, _would you like me to write some smut/fluff and post it on my profile? I have loads of it in my mind, it's just not at the right time in the story yet. Just send me a message and it'll be done. Otherwise, wait a week ;)**

**Anyway, let me know your opinions! Hope you're enjoying.**


	10. Looking For Romance

Anna Fosse stands in line at a café, bouncing lightly on her heel. She knows what she's going to get—hot chocolate with extra chocolate and whipped cream—but her eyes still scan the menu vehemently for what Elsa would like. The blonde has been talking to her for a week now so technically she could have asked, but she wants it to be a surprise. Plus she might have forgotten to do so, a bit. Lately, she's spending too much time watching the way that Elsa plays with her hair and the exact way her eyes widen when she's surprised or happy. And, when she's lucky, the effect of Elsa's fingers brushing against her own has on her. She thinks she could happily drop out of school to major on Elsa.

So it's really because of the girl in question that she doesn't hear the barista call her down until the sixth attempt. She stumbles forward in reaction to the light tap on her shoulder from the annoyed girl behind her, and manages to fall halfway to the floor before catching herself. How she managed it, she's not sure, as the only obstacle between herself and the counter are her own feet. Her face is bright red.

"Hey," she says, annoyed.

Her face gets increasingly dark when she blinks up at the boy behind the counter.

He's gorgeous. He's tall, muscular in a non-intimidating way, and has a long yet nice face. His hair is red, even brighter than Anna's own, which makes her want to giggle. It's just so cute.

"I'm so sorry," he says, although he has nothing to be sorry about. The man seems to look down at her embarrassing feet. "Are you hurt?"

She blinks at him. Of course she's not. She just tripped, as she does at least fifteen times a day. It's nice of him to care. He's the first one who's asked her that in a few years.

A smile blooms across her face at his kindness. "Hey," she repeats, gentler this time. "I, yeah, no. No. I'm okay."

Clearly, she doesn't look okay. What with her bright face and stuttered response. His eyebrows are still drawn together with concern. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just wasn't paying attention. But I'm okay." She looks at the prettiness of his green eyes. They're no sparkling blue, but they at least belong to a functioning human being. "I'm great, actually."

"Oh, thank goodness." Their eyes stay locked for a moment, before he looks away a bit and clears his throat. _So cute. _"Anyway, I'm Hans, welcome to Southern Isles. Today's special is our four berry smoothie."

"Mm, sounds good." Maybe not so much for Elsa, though. "What's your favourite coffee based drink?"

"I like coffee with caramel infused," he answers, clearly content that she seems interested in his opinion. "For you, though—"

"No, not for me," she shakes her head. "Not because I don't trust your opinion, Just because it's for my, uh, friend, and she doesn't really talk much so I don't know her favourite type of thing but I mean caramel is great, usually, yeah."

He gives her a curious look. Amazingly, it isn't riddled with judgement. "Hot?"

"Hot?" she asks back. "Like, are you hot? Or am I hot? Or the temperatre or—oh! Like, do I want the coffee hot." Anna thinks she may just have to jump off a cliff. She laughs in a mute attempt to defuse the tension. "This is awkward. Not you're awkward. Just because we're—I'm awkward. You're gorgeous." _Did she just say that? _"Wait, what?"

Hans smiles at her. Still, there is no judgement in his eyes. "So hot coffee, or iced?"

Anna thinks for a moment, and tries to ignore how her ears are burning. "Iced," she decides.

"Medium or large?"

"Medium, please."

He bows his head. "And for yourself?"

She tells him her order, to which he smiles. She pays, fumbling with the money so much she's close to dismembering her own arm, and he goes off to make her drink. Anna follows the counter around the large drink-making space so that she can wait closer to the spot of delivery. That way she can get away from the glowering girl behind her, and maybe get out of this café more quickly. She's come her hundreds of times, but this man has never been there before. Maybe he's the reason her speech is becoming more useless than before.

Moments later, Hans is back with two drinks in his hands. Long fingers wrap around the cups; one a steaming ceramic mug, the other iced in a plastic cup. Anna looks at him curiously.

"I was hoping that maybe you would want to sit with me during my break," he says by means of an explanation.

Anna's eyes widen. 'Yeah, cool, that'd be awesome. Totally awesome."

"Alright," he says, slipping away.

_Now what? _Anna thinks. He didn't say when his break would be over, or what should do until he had it, or—

"Hey," Hans says from beside her. She guesses he meant now.

"Can you just take breaks like that?"

Hans nods. "My family owns this place, so I can take my break whenever I would like to."

Anna smiles. "So I bet you do this a lot."

He blinks at her, confused. "Do what?"

"Take breaks, you know, whenever."

"Not really. This is a special occasion."

Her stomach flip flops. She tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

"So, uh, tell me about herself," she says.

"No way!" she laughs loudly, holding her face with her hands.

"And then he proceeded to pretend that I didn't exist. For a _year._"

"Siblings are weird," Anna decides. She's never had one, and even though she craved for one as a child, after hearing Hans' stories she realizes how lucky she is.

"Yeah, I have twelve older brothers."

She spits out a bit of her hot chocolate, and has to use the sleeve of her shirt to mop it off her chin. They've been talking for so long that she hardly even blushes. Everything comes so _naturally _around Hans.

"I know, it's been an interesting childhood."

Anna giggles some more, before calming down. "Well it made a super interesting person."

Hans sighs. The pair shares a long look. Their eyes are dreamy and clouded, like they could stay in their bubble world of laughter and stories forever.

With a smile, Hans reaches out and holds Anna's hand. "Come by again sometime soon, okay?"

Her fingers twitch a bit in excitement. "Yeah. Okay. I will. For sure."

The two sit for a few more moments before getting up. Normally, this is when she would give him her number. She doesn't. Instead, she steps forward for a hug before realizing how terribly awkward that would be. The two jerk apart. Then back together.

"I—yeah, goodbye!"

"Goodbye," Hans sighs as the girl skips out, leaving her iced coffee on the table.

* * *

**I resent having to post this chapter, but apparently plot is a thing. *Huffs angrily*. **

**I wrote five freaking chapters of fluff (in one day) to make up for the angst. Five. I hope it's worth it. It starts next chapter.**


	11. Anyone Can Cook

Anna is halfway home when she realizes that she forgot Elsa's iced coffee. She's not even sure if the girl would have liked it, but at least she would have known she was thinking about her.

Not that she was, really. Hans had taken up absolutely all of her thoughts. Beautiful Hans with his hair even more ginger than Anna's. His eyes had been so captive, taking in everything Anna said with alarming focus, and she had felt _important._

She wonders when she'll see him again. It would be of her on doing, but she doubts that he would mind. One of the central characteristics of being, well, Anna, is that she makes the first move. On anyone.

Even straight girls with whom she shares a house.

It's so easy for her mind to jump back to Elsa. She wonders if the blonde is shy around everyone. She imagines that she is, what with the way that her parents behave. Anna also wonders how she got to be this way. Her best friend has always been a bit quiet, but never withdrawn. A smile used to fill her face constantly, and people would always compliment her on her beauty. She would look down at her feet, but she would always respond with a polite "thank you".

Now, if somebody she hardly knew complimented her, Anna imagines that she would run away and stay in her room for a few days. In, ya know, an adorable way.

She opens up the door with the key she keeps in her back pocket. It clicks, and the magnificently large doors present themselves. She pushes them open, and smiles at the familiar scent. It smells like books and breeze and mint leaves. Mostly, it smells like Elsa.

_Elsa._

Whether she wants to admit it or not, she is the reason that Hans doesn't have her number. She is the reason that Anna didn't order a hundred hot chocolates just to talk to the boy. Three months ago, Anna would have excitedly offered herself to anybody who talked to her that enthusiastically. Not that Anna didn't get attention from guys, but nothing ever seemed to go well. She usually ended up hitting him in the face or blurting out something that hurt his insufferably large ego.

This is something, Anna has found, that is not as much of a problem for girls.

Anna has never actually _been _with a girl, not dating, anyway, but she knows that she would like to. Parties introduced her to the softness of their lips and the sensitivity of their touch and their ability to make her feel things she had never felt before. Her friends taught her of their emotions. Cuddling with those same friends taught her that it was okay to feel at home with a body the same as her own. Discussions with her parents in the last months of their lives taught her that it was okay for her to feel that way, even if some people didn't agree.

Elsa has taught her that it's possible to love—irrevocably and stupidly and really, really passionately—a woman. Even if it's taken her the time that she's been at the Isen's mansion to realize it, she knows that she _like _likes her. When she sees her she feels jittery, when she touches her she turns to jelly, and she has an overwhelming urge to kiss her. All the time.

Normally, Anna would be excited. Anna _is _excited. The only hitch is the fact that Elsa does not seem interested, even whatsoever. Maybe subconsciously with her lingering gazes, but when it comes to direct contact, she sucks. She can hardly even touch Anna for a few seconds, never mind hold her close and kiss her in the way that Anna needs.

Anna doesn't give up. She never does, on anything, and this field is no exception. Her personal policy is to ignore sexuality if not expressed explicitly. The redhead has made loads of friends that way, and even met a few girls that she almost dated. Before she realized that they were in a relationship or not in belief of anything other than sexual relations or moving or dying of an imminent disease or something. Okay, maybe not _that_ dramatic, but there always seemed to be something.

She has to figure out if Elsa likes her. The sooner, the better. If she returns her feelings, then she'll never talk to Hans again. She has a feeling that if Elsa does like her, they will make it work. Or at least Anna knows that she will. Probably even enough for the both of them.

Making treats isn't the most forward way to confess one's love, but it's all that she knows. And it got Elsa out, at least a bit, the first time. Maybe making cookies with hearts on it would be more obvious? Or she could just go up to her and talk, but then she risks being met with Elsa's back and a door in her face.

Flowers. Flowers would be an excellent choice. She read a book at Rapunzel's house about the Victorian language of flowers, and how each one communicates something different. If anybody would catch on, it would be Elsa. She's smart, plus she's read at least a thousand books. Anna wouldn't be surprised if that one is among her mental or physical library.

This would wait, though. There would have to be more confirmation of the blonde's sexuality before she went full out flower on the girl.

Smiling, Anna strides into the kitchen. She sits down at a stool and looks up at the cupboards, pretending as if she has x-ray vision to see within. After becoming so familiar with the kitchen, she might as well have. They have the perfect amount of caramel chips for snickerdoodle cookies...

She moves her eyes down a millimetre, and they land on Elsa: frozen, in the refrigerator with her back to Anna. Although she knows the girl has detected her, she takes the moment to observe her crush. Her legs are hidden by navy leggings that tuck under her feet, but Anna follows them from toe to hips anyway. After spending a few moments observing her incredibly perky behind, Anna's eyes move up. A blush spreads across her own face at the strip of skin showing between leggings and the beginning of a knitted cardigan. She can see her pale skin, and if she moves just a bit to the left she can see the beginning of a flat stomach. She sighs. Yup, if any girl is going to make her fall head of heels, it's this one. She only stares for a few more moments before she looks away.

Reluctantly done with her ogling, the younger girl giggles. "Um, Elsa?"

"Yes."

"Are you sucking the soul out of the fridge? Or have I paralyzed you in your efforts to do something else?" Anna teases. She can imagine the blonde's cheeks turning the colour of Anna's hair.

"You are an exceptionally rude person," Elsa decides, tugging her head out of the fridge and turning to look at Anna. As suspected, her cheeks are dusted with red embarrassment.

"You are an exceptionally hungry person, it seems," Anna says with a smile. "Here, I can make something for ya."

Her blush furthers. Anna wants to squeal at its adorableness. She also wants to kiss it darker. "No, no, really, you mustn't. You make me three full meals a day."

"Well, three meals of treats. One meal of substance. Before you started, like, talking to me, I was scared you were going to die. Of hunger. Not general me-ness."

Elsa rolls her eyes, but shrugs.

"Anyway, make yourself useful." Her mother used to say this to her in the kitchen just about any time she walked in. "Put on an apron or something. I brought my own, but I think you have some in your—"" Anna begins rummaging through the bottom drawer of the kitchen island. "Aha! Here." She tosses the apron at Elsa's face. The girl catches it with speed, hardly even widening her eyes at the incoming object. Maybe because her eyes have already widened to their maximum size just talking to the younger girl. "We're gonna cook macaroni and cheese. Traditional style."

* * *

Anna, Elsa has decided, is most captivating when she's cooking. Elsa can't help that her eyes follow the girl around the kitchen. She thinks she's supposed to be adding flour or something to the bread she was put "in charge" of, but it's much more fun to watch Anna stand above a pot at the stove.

At the beginning, Anna had been explaining her actions with the pretense of teaching Elsa a thing or two. By now, her language is more Anna than it is English, and the older girl is positive that she's just talking to herself.

It's endearing in a way that tugs on the corners of her mouth.

"Add four...then stir...cheddar...two percent...but..."

It may be useless information for anybody besides herself, but if it makes Anna as happy as she looks, Elsa thinks that the talking is lovely.

Anna seems to notice her eyes on her, for she suddenly starts out of her conversation. Her face is sweaty and red from both embarrassment and standing over a pot of boiling ingredients. "What?"

"You're just so...focused. It's incredible."

The younger girl shrugs, like she gets this a lot. "Anyone can cook. You just have to love it."

Elsa shakes her head. "No, not everybody can cook like you. You have a gift, Anna."

The redhead actually snorts at that. "Right. Says the 99.9 percent average. Cooking would probably flow out of your fingers if you stood near a pot and thought hard enough."

Elsa has to hold back her smirk for Anna's benefit. She doesn't want her to think that she's being cocky, or agreeing with her. Without noticing, she has inched up to Anna's side.

"I study materials science. That means I study the structure and properties and all that jazz, of, well, materials. Stuff like water and noodles and cheese. Well, usually it's exceptionally fancier than that, but I _could _tell you the exact structure of that noodle. With a microscope and detailed ingredient list. Or I could probably just make a good guess without all that, and only have a two percent error." Anna's eyebrows are scrunched together. She hurriedly moves on. "Anyway. That's the sort of thing that you think makes me smart. But if you _gave _me noodles and cheese and water, I wouldn't know what to do with it. I would know how their atoms would react to one another, maybe even how one's taste buds would react to that combination, but...I couldn't make something delicious. That's what you do. And I think that's infinitely more important."

Anna stares at her with her head cocked slightly to the side.

_Fuck, _Elsa thinks, _I did that thing where I make everybody who isn't in at a top ten university feel like an idiot. Great job, you presumptuous asshole._

"Sorry," Elsa begins. "I didn't mean to confuse you or anything. Basically, I understand the _chemistry _of things, but you understand—"

"The biology. Well, not really the biology, but the bigger picture. You're the thinker and I'm the doer."

It's Elsa's turn to look perplexed. "Yes, exactly. Sorry, I thought I had lost you. Not because you're stupid or anything—you're not—but because you gave me that look—"

"Elsa," Anna says. The blonde really likes the way she says her name. "Don't worry about it. That's the nicest—and longest—thing you've ever said to me. I feel like maybe to anyone ever." _Is it that obvious that I'm a shut in? _"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

A silence settles over the girls. It's not uncomfortable. Elsa has always thrived in the quiet. This is where she grew up, and where she still lives.

She's not even quite sure why she's able to be within a few feet of Anna, most of the time. The girl is loud, even when she's not talking. Her actions are huge in the way a clown's are, and her smile can take up a room just by itself.

Somehow, it doesn't make Elsa shy away. It just makes her want to move closer.

_But you can't, _she reminds herself. _It's wrong._

It's becoming harder and harder for Elsa to believe that this is true. It's impossible for her to push down her feelings, and she can't see how something that makes her feel _alive _could possibly be bad. She's been informed of the scripture against it, seen the protests, been told stories of "hell witches" in the early 1900s. Then she saw perfectly happy gay couples at her school, in fiction, and out in public. There can't be anything that wrong with it.

And maybe for other people, there isn't. But she has her father, and she can't just _not _have him in her life. Even with her scholarship, it would be his money that would pay for her residence if she decided to move away. If she came out to him, fully and proudly, she would be alone.

It's just hard for those thoughts to stay coherent when Anna is in front of her, flitting around again now, being enthusiastic about everything from teaching Elsa how to make bread to cracking eggs. She makes it impossible for her not to love her.

_You don't even know what love is._

This, she knows, is true. She hasn't loved anybody, really, in her entire life. And nobody has ever loved her. Besides, she guesses, her cuddly fluff ball of a best friend. Olaf has given her more than one lecture on the importance of love, and how he loves her, and how she loves him even if she doesn't quite understand why. It's easy enough to say that she loves the tiny, supremely flamboyant boy. But to tell somebody to whom it could mean so much more is a feat close to impossible.

Anna, who loves her parents and Elsa and the students in her classes and probably the spider that's making its way across nearby window, would not understand Elsa's confusion.

"Hello?" Anna says, laughing. She snaps her fingers a few inches in front of Elsa's face. Elsa's eyes had been trailing her, yet she hadn't quite been listening to her words.

"That bread isn't going to bake itself!"

The two cook in reasonable peace. Elsa still watches Anna, and Anna mostly talks to herself. But it's the only thing non-academic thing the pair has done since they were little. It's a step, although Elsa doesn't know in which direction. Or even if she's ready to take it.

* * *

Elsa sits in her bedroom with her sketchbook, and draws Anna for the tenth time that week. It's hard to draw somebody that she isn't looking at, but she thinks that she's almost captured the exact dip in her nose. The freckles are going to be a feet, though.

In this sketch, picture Anna is flipping something—Elsa hasn't decided yet—on a frying pan with a look of concentration on her face. Even in her sketch form, Elsa gets flustered when she draws Anna's body. She has to put down her pencil for a second to stop her shaking. It reminds her how very much time she's spent observing it.

It's then, like a bolt of lightning, that it hits her. She's too infatuated with her to ignore it. She's most definitely gay. Even if she's not ready to do something about it; even if she can't do anything about it, she has to realize it. After a few hundred confused journal entries and sketches of girls, the fact is screaming at her.

"Agh," Elsa yells. The panic that is always just under the surface seeps into her veins and courses through her body.

_Fucking disgrace. Dirty whore. Abomination. _

It's the shivering and the words that, even now, are resurfacing that make it so much easier to just ignore it.

If she accepts her sexuality, this feeling could haunt her permanently. Maybe it will become a part of who she is. Each time she kisses a girl, the words will be there screaming. No more normal Elsa, who can at least sometimes function and go to school and play video cames. Just swirling fear, shivering, questioning, lesbian Elsa.

_Gay Elsa._

Despite that terrible part of her that cringes at the thought and screams louder, it seems fitting. Like her brain is saying _finally._

So it's for that part of her that Elsa hugs herself, brings herself over to her bed, and crawls under the covers. She allows the terrible words to roll through her and scrunches her eyes closed. Eventually, they will have to end.

And, soon enough, they do.


	12. Kiss the Girl

"Fuck," Elsa mutters. She jerks her controller to the left, as if its physical movement could get out of the way of the ghost. Instantly, her body is splattered by the vehicle. She growls. She had her favourite combination of weapons, and now she would have to run over to grab them before one of the idiots on the other team realizes how good they were.

"I got it, I got it!" squeals Olaf. "The flag! Elsa, come on!"

"I just died," she growls, hopping onto a tank.

"Wait!" someone's accented voice says. He sounds German. He jumps onto the back and gets in the gunning position.

"We're backing up the flag," Elsa orders, driving off in the direction Olaf had indicated.

The German guy shoots enemies, and she has to hand it to him. He's no Elsa, but he's pretty good. She smiles wickedly as she takes the most popular root possible and watches him shoot everybody that she doesn't run down. Finally, she sees Olaf's familiar white and black armour.

'Get on!" she practically screams into the mic. He gets into the passenger's seat, and she takes off.

A few moments later, cheers erupt. "Fuck yeah!"

"Yippee!" Olaf cheers. Everyone's so happy after a ridiculously long game that nobody scoffs at his exuberance.

There's a familiar knocking at the door. "Be back in a sec. Start without me if I'm not."

"Anna?" Olaf guesses. Elsa doesn't give up gaming for anything else.

Elsa sighs in response, and takes off her headset. She tries her best not to run to the door as the knocking resumes.

"Elsa," a voice is saying. "Please come out. I could hear you swearing, ya know."

She places her hand on the doorknob, takes a deep breath, and pulls open the door.

"Hi," she says with a smile. She hasn't quite gotten used to the idea that she can just talk to Anna whenever she wants to, and that it's alright. It makes her stomach all tight in a way she's not entirely sure she dislikes.

She slips through the crack, and watches Anna's eyes dance at the area above her head. The girl is always trying to see within her room, which is completely reasonable. They've been friends their entire life. There isn't really a reason that the younger girl shouldn't be able to explore her room—besides her sketchbooks and journals—as much as she wants. It's almost like Elsa's body has been programmed to shut everybody out of her personal life, even if she's decided that she doesn't want to.

"Hey. Why were you swearing and stuff? It was really funny. You don't really act like you swear."

"How am I supposed to act if I swear?" Elsa raises an eyebrow. "Am I required a tattoo?"

Anna giggles at that. Elsa feels her stomach do its dance again.

"Maybe," Anna says without stopping her laughter, "Or maybe you need to have muscles as big as the rest of your body. Or ride a motorcycle in shorts and a t-shirt."

Elsa cringes at the thought, which makes Anna resume her giggling. "Your face is cute when you do that."

Elsa's face is red within a matter of seconds. Or, at least, she thinks it is. She has a small hope that her face isn't bright as often as she imagines it is. Otherwise Anna may think it's her skin tone.

It doesn't help when the younger girl reaches up and touches the crease between Elsa's eyebrows. She stops breathing, and hopes that her intense session of Halo hasn't caused perspiration to appear on her forehead. Anna's giggling has ceased.

She starts to tremble. But, this time, the sensation isn't unpleasant. She's not shaking with cold and harsh words. Elsa is trembling with the beautiful warmth of Anna against her.

Anna either doesn't notice, or doesn't care, because she continues to move her hand on Elsa's face. She traces above her eyebrow softly, and pauses at her glasses. A puzzled look appears across her face before she gently removes them, and props them on her own head with a smirk that could give Elsa a heart attack. She continues exploring her face, down the side of her face, and pauses at her cheek.

"See, you've stopped frowning."

"I wasn't frowning," Elsa answers reflexively.

"Yeah, but." Anna's fingertips become remarkably close to the corner of Elsa's mouth. "Now you're kinda smiling. But in a different way. Like you don't mean to. It's even cuter."

Elsa thinks that she might pass out on the spot. Her trembling hasn't ceased; if anything, it's increased in its intensity.

As if she's been doing this her entire life, Anna runs her middle finger over Elsa's lips. Quickly, like she isn't sure if Elsa will suddenly snap at her. Then, more slowly, she pinches Elsa's lips together a bit, kind of like a fish. Neither girl looks close to laughing at the thought. She releases them now, and runs her thumb over her bottom lip. The entire length, her eyes don't leave Elsa's.

_This, _Elsa thinks, _would be an excellent way to die._

"Yes," Anna says decisively. Her voice is breathy. "I like your face when you're not so worried."

Elsa breathes out. Her breath brushes against Anna's finger, and the younger girl smiles in response. "Yeah," Anna says like she's going to say something else, but decides against it.

She removes her thumb softly from Elsa's lip. The blonde has to resist her urge to moan in frustration. Anna _can't _just pull back after making her spine shiver like that. It's not fair.

Anna moves her hand now to behind Elsa's ear, where she tucks a hair. "This is my favourite Elsa."

"You're my only Anna."

The words escape her without permission. She can see that they made the exact impact her subconscious wished for when a smile blooms across Anna's face. The two stand there for a moment in the hallway. They blink at each other, like they're seeing one another for the first time.

"I—" Elsa starts upon realizing her ogling. She has to get into her room and wait for the stiff, sickening excitement to leave her. Currently, she's at risk of many maladies, including a heart attack.

Anna shakes her head slightly, and steps forward. For the second time, Elsa stops breathing. "You're also beautiful without your glasses. I mean, you're beautiful with them, but I like—I like seeing your eyes."

Especially a heart attack.

Elsa's eyes flick up to her glasses on Anna's head. She likes how they look there more than she does on her own face. Maybe she could just keep them there, and spend her time stroking Elsa's face so she never has to see anything besides the adorable girl, anyway.

It's selfish of her, she knows, but she thinks it would be the most valuable use of Anna's time. Making someone feel like this—like they're flying and sinking at the same time—should be a profession. Maybe the two could trade tutoring in chemistry for just holding her face.

Or, more, even.

Elsa's eyes widen at the thought.

_Too far, you freak._

The voice is a lot quieter than it usually is, and much easier to ignore.

Anna is leaning forward, and it consumes absolutely every thought Elsa has. Her blue eyes are getting closer, and those irresistible lips are growing closer. Elsa wishes she had returned the favour and run her own fingers over Anna's lips.

_Anna's lips. Anna's lips. Anna's _lips.

"I—" the two are centimetres apart.

Anna shushes her, and brings her hand up to Elsa's face again. She pinches her lips together like she did earlier, and runs her thumb along the bottom. Back and forth, slowly. Each time Elsa exhales, Anna inhales in response.

When Anna begins to lean forward again, Elsa's heart rate is already pushing its maximum speed. Her blue eyes fall closed, but Elsa's remain open. She needs to see this. She needs to remember this moment for the rest of her life.

Her face is so blurry in its proximity by the time Anna removes her fingers that Elsa hardly notices.

She can feel Anna's breath on her face, tickling against her chin. Then Anna lifts herself up on her toes, and places her arms on Elsa's. She's given Elsa warning. She's letting her pull away.

She doesn't.

It's only when Elsa can almost feel Anna's lips against hers that Elsa jolts back to reality. It's not until both of their mouths are slightly open and they're breathing the same air and their stomachs are lurching in unison—it is only then that Elsa realizes what she's about to do. In its full glory, unfiltered by lust and Anna's adorableness.

_No. This is wrong. Stop. You're in a hallway. Your father could be just around the corner._

Elsa leans back just as she can feel the warmth of Anna's lips against hers, and wraps her arms around the girl. Hurriedly, she shoves her chin past her shoulder so that the two are touching everywhere besides where Elsa wants them to.

_I'm sorry, _Elsa wants to say. Instead, she just breathes in Anna's familiar smell, and regrets that even this will end soon.

* * *

**Hehe.. does this count as fluff or torture? **


	13. Once Upon a Dream

Anna lies awake in her bed, tossing and turning even more so than usual. Not only does she have a chemistry quiz tomorrow that she's hardly prepared for, but she has all the added...whatever it is that's happening with Elsa.

Just one more second, and her life wouldn't be so confusing. One more second and she would know that Elsa agrees with her sentiments.

But then she had to go in for a hug.

Hugs are great, of course. For Kristoff and family friends and, ya know, anybody who isn't the most gorgeous girl alive and becoming more irresistible by the minute.

Was Anna just attacking her, then? Was Elsa just baffled by Anna's weird forwardness and reacted accordingly? She's so antisocial and subtle that she could easily have been. Anna doubts that anything like that has ever happened to her. Forward advances, sure, but not _that _forward. Elsa's gorgeous, but the only place anybody tries anything like that is at a club. Anna almost laughs out loud at the idea of Elsa at a bar.

In a bar, the two would already be in a taxi home to do..

Well, everything. Everything Anna had imagined doing with Elsa, and probably a lot more.

Anna thinks that she might spontaneously combust if she has to think about the scenario any more. Never mind fail chemistry.

Anna is a doer. Elsa said so herself. This is going to be the last night that she lies awake fantasizing about a girl who may or may not be as straight as a nineteenth century princess' back.

At the first idea that pops into Anna's mind, she's out of her bed and heading towards the door. She shoves on a pair of slippers, and pulls a baggy t-shirt over her bare body. Without bothering to look in her mirror, she sneaks out her bedroom door.

The walk over to Elsa's ornate door has become so familiar that it doesn't matter that Anna's eyes are still adjusting. Even the doorknob is familiar from hours of staring at it, waiting for it to move. Anna places her hand where she knows it will be, shivers at the cold metal, and pushes the door open.

Bright moonlight filters into the room from a large, triangular window. Anna had never realized what a marvelous view Elsa's room must have. It overlooks the backyard, and the lake they would go skating on each winter. Several trees dance at the edge of the roof, a few metres away from Elsa's window.

Maybe climbing down those is how Elsa manages to avoid her so often. The girl doesn't look like a climber, but then again, Elsa doesn't look like a lot of things she clearly is.

The moonlight provides enough lighting for Anna to see everything that she needs to. Bookshelves line the walls closest to her, and Elsa's bed is in the far left of the bedroom, remarkably close to a massive fireplace. If this were her room, Anna thinks she would constantly fear of being set afire in her sleep.

The most shocking thing about the entire room is how _neat _it is. Whenever Elsa would block her view into her room, Anna had always presumed that at least part of the reason was that it was messy. Yet there's nothing out of place. Even the books on the bedside table are stacked in an orderly fashion, her glasses perched neatly atop the pile.

That is, until she observes the other side of the window. It's not that this side is messy, it just looks more, well, human.

Video games lay littered on the ground beneath a massive television unit. Lights of the gaming consoles glow and flash. Anna doesn't even know what most of them are. She can make out that one is an Xbox and one is PlayStation, but there are various versions of them both. With unlimited money and limited interest in boys and friends, she imagines that Elsa uses all her allowance on these games.

The thought puts a huge smile on Anna's face.

Anna's not even sure why she's here. Now that she's standing in the middle of the moonlit room, she feels like the entire expedition was pointless. She thought that maybe just walking into the older girl's room would make some huge truth known to her.

Really, she's just figured out that her crush is a neat freak with erratic gaming tendencies.

Part of her wants to turn around and walk out now. Another part wants to go through Elsa's books and read every single one, until she knows everything that Elsa knows. Then maybe she'd understand her a bit better.

Maybe those books on her bedside would be a good start.

She tiptoes closer to Elsa. As a child, Elsa was a fairly deep sleeper. Not as much so as herself, but she would at least pretend to sleep through Anna jumping on her to wake up.

As she approaches Elsa, she can hear her breathing. It's steady and heavy, like snoring but cuter. Her white blonde bangs are sticking up in a do that some would buy gel to accomplish. She watches her face as she sleeps. It looks so peaceful. Her eyes move from side to side under her eyelids every once in a while, but it's more her mouth that shocks Anna. It's the way it was earlier tonight, when Anna had been so compelled to touch it.

It occurs to her that she's _watching her crush sleep _and hops away. Literally. The floor pounds slightly with her weight. She catches herself, spreads out her arms, and prays to all the gods she doesn't believe in that Elsa doesn't wake up.

The girl halts her steady breathing for a moment, and her mouth twitches.

Then her breathing resumes, and Anna's follows suit.

_I just want to know if she likes me._

She feels creepy, but she doesn't think she can live without knowing. It's been months of trying to get the girl to tell her. To almost kiss her. And she knows Elsa had wanted to. Her eyes had watched her lips in the same way Anna had watched hers. But she can't say anything until she knows for certain. Her relationship with Elsa is not one she is willing to mess up.

She sees the topmost book in Elsa's pile, and notices that it's plain and black. A sketchbook.

_Jackpot._

If, of course, she was a creep. Which she's not. She forces her eyes to scroll past it, memorizing each of the books they pass. _The Diary of Anne Frank, Beethoven: A Biography..._

She extends her hand to lift up the glasses, to get a glimpse of the author of the Beethoven book, when Elsa wakes up.

"Anna," she says groggily.

Anna exhales, and turns to look at the girl. She prepares for the worst. Horror, confusion, betrayal. She would deserve it all.

But Elsa's eyes are still closed, and the peaceful smile rests on her face. She was wrong. Elsa hasn't woken up. She's just sleep talking.

_Wait, what?_

She's sleep talking about Anna. She's dreaming about her. That small smile on her face was put there by _Anna._

Anna thinks that, if she wasn't being so cautious to stay quiet, she could tap dance.

She smiles wider in her sleep, and mutters Anna's name again. The younger girl is absolutely beaming.

"Elsa," she says back clearly after a few more of these occurrences. It's not fair of her to hear her say her name, and not respond. That would be more like spying than anything else. Elsa has to at least be given the chance to have a conversation. Even if she is at least kind of sleeping.

"Cm'here," Elsa mumbles, rolling a bit so that part of the bed is exposed.

_Wait, is she sleeping?_

"Um, Els—"

"Cm'here," Elsa mumbles again, impatiently this time. Her eyelids flutter, but do not open.

"Uh." Anna steps forward. "I feel super weird and if you're sleeping I'm not gonna just crawl into your bed cause seriously—"

Elsa's eyelids flutter more, enough that Anna catches the blue of her eye for half a second, before they close again. "Yer not creepy. I dunno why yer here, but y'ar and I wanna cuddle."

"You want to what?"

"Cuddle, y'idiot. Get o'er here." She spreads her arms again.

Anna figures that she's resisted enough that it doesn't count as taking advantage of the girl. After all, she's not drunk. And all they're going to do is cuddle. Besides, they've been friends their entire life. If _they _can't do it, then nobody can.

It's amazing what even the prospect of cuddling does to Anna. It makes her entire body burn. She looks down at her body and blushes. She's wearing underwear and a t-shirt.

"Elsa," she says again.

Elsa's eyes open all the way this time. She squints a bit, like the moonlight is hurting her eyes. She observes Anna's legs for long moment, as if she's debating their existence. "Cm'here," she pouts again.

"Are you sure you're not asleep?" Anna asks again. Even though _she _knows what her intentions are, she doesn't want Elsa to wake up in the morning and think that Anna had just crept into her bed without any sort of permission.

Elsa sighs and rolls over again, turning her back on Anna. "If you don't wanna cuddle you don't havt'a."

"I do, but—" Anna responds, perhaps too eagerly. She clears her throat. "Shouldn't you be, like, pissed, or something? That I'm here?"

"Why are you here?" Elsa asks more clearly, turning once more to look at Anna. Her eyes are even startling in the dark.

"I wanted to figure out...something."

Elsa yawns. "Seems reasonable. I'm a stupid person to try to figure out." Then she closes her eyes, and opens her arms again.

"Okay," Anna says cautiously. She sits on the bed, and tries to control the jolt than runs through her body when her back presses against Elsa's stomach.

Elsa makes an entirely unfair sound of contentment. "Closer," she whines.

_I totally would, but then I might explode._

She really doesn't want to get any closer, in fear of freezing in place and never being able to move again. Anna has always thought that it was Elsa who was dysfunctional with touching, but it seems like she's the same way.

It doesn't seem like she has a choice. Elsa wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her sideways against her body.

Anna melts into the blonde until she's lying against her. Her back is against her chest. It's absolutely unfair, the things that Elsa's breasts are doing to her mind when she can only barely feel them. Her heartbeat has a similar, yet reversing effect. It calms her. _Elsa's here, _it sings. _Elsa's here and Elsa's holding you and Elsa wants to be close to you._

Anna closes her eyes, and allows herself to breathe.

As if she can feel Anna's relaxation, Elsa's arms tighten around her. Her stomach presses against the small of Elsa's back. "Warm."

Anna lies in Elsa's bed, eyes wide open. Her brain seems to be unsure if it wants more or less air; one second she's hyperventilating, and the next her breathing all but stops. All she can do is feel Elsa's chest and Elsa's arms and Elsa's chin against her back and Elsa's bare legs when she stretches a bit and slides her knee under Anna's calf...

It all feels very intimate.

Maybe all this feeling is overwhelming her brain. It's probably trying to comprehend the situation. Anna can imagine its dialogue: _So, uh, we have done the cuddling process before...what is happening? Why are we reacting differently? Attention, brain warriors! Find the root of this problem and fix it._

Fixing it would probably involve the removal of Elsa from herself, which Anna is not quite ready to do. She's waited too long for this moment.

Elsa's arms begin to slacken. The clock on the bedside table has shown ten minutes pass by the time that her arms are completely limp. Anna's breathing still hasn't stopped its indecision, and her brain is as confused as ever. Clearly, the problem and solution is Elsa. But what is she supposed to do with that answer?

Lying there forever would probably be a reasonable response, Anna decides. She feels Elsa's breath against her neck, and tries to match its steady rhythm. Then, maybe, she'll be able to comprehend enough to figure out what the heck just happened.

* * *

**LET YOURSELF DANCE IN THE FLUFF. Sorry if you guys think this chapter is creepy, I tried not to make it so. If you couldn't tell. Anyway. Be happy. More fluff on its way. Like, bags full of it. Also leave reviews and make me super happy? **


	14. Just a Spoon Full of Sugar

Elsa wakes up to an empty bed.

For the first time in forever, this confuses her. At first, she can't quite realize why this is confusing. Elsa has woken up alone every single day since she was six years old.

She stretches out, feeling all about the bed, but it's just her. There's not even an imprint of a warm body. Some of the blankets are flipped up, which is unusual, but that can't be—

_Anna._

Her stomach lurches. Like a broken dam, the memories are all suddenly there. Clear, yet fuzzy at the same time. It's the show she's seen a hundred times on a broken VCR tape. She know all the words, yet it's not quite coherent enough to watch.

Anna was in her room. Anna had been in her bed.

Elsa throws her hands over her torso.

Anna had been lying against her. Right there. And she's pretty sure she hadn't been wearing pants.

If she didn't feel so earth shatteringly happy, she would probably throw up.

She has to go to Olaf's. He's the only person in the universe she could ever tell this to, and it's not like she can call him. If anybody overheard she would _actually _vomit.

Without wasting a single moment, Elsa pulls on a pair of leggings and runs out her bedroom door. Quite literally.

She seems to have forgotten that it's Sunday, and that her parents have yet to leave for church at seven in the morning.

"Elsa?" her mother calls out after her as she sprints past the living room.

The blonde skids to a stop. "Yes?"

"And where are you off to?"

"Olaf's."

Her father's eyes narrow. Despite her protests at his use of the word "faggot" towards her best friend, or possibly because of them, he does not like the idea of the two spending time together. She has never told him that he _isn't _gay, just that he shouldn't call him such a vile name. Since her father refuses to use civil language, they remain at a cold war on the matter.

Her mother glares at him. _He's her only friend, _her eyes say. This, Elsa suspects, is the only reason the friendship is still allowed to flourish. That and the fact that Elsa, despite her father's beliefs, is an adult.

"Very well," her father sighs. "Off with you, then."

She doesn't waste another moment. Within seconds, she's out the door and clicking her Volkswagen open. She swings herself into the car and backs up without much care. It's lucky that it's not a school day, or she could have run over several children. Once she's on the road, she tells herself to breathe. Olaf will make sense of it all.

It's a twenty minute drive to the house Olaf shares with a bunch of other university students. Enough time that the blonde has become a nervous, shaking wreck by the time she knocks on the bright red door. Elsa's over often enough that when the big albino one opens the door, he only glares at her for a few seconds before leaving it open and turning around.

"Thanks, Marshmallow!"

He grumbles more.

She flies up the staircase and barges into Olaf's room.

The innocent boy is lying curled up on a white futon, face half covered by a sheet. Even in his sleep, a smile dances on his face, like he could get up and start hugging someone at the drop of a hat.

She knows that she should let him sleep. He usually runs on five hours a sleep a day, and finally it seems as if he's getting more than that. Given by the state of his black hair, all standing up in tufts, he's been out since Elsa signed out on him last night.

It only takes a few moments to sit on the edge of his bed, turn on his Xbox console, and log into her account. It takes all of her self-restraint to keep her swearing to small hisses, and she's relieved that he sleeps through her feminist rant to some thirteen year old kid. It's an hour after that monuments occasion that she overhears a yawn from behind her.

"Elsa?" he asks groggily as she accidentally bounces on the futon mattress.

"Sorry, sorry," she apologizes, throwing off the headphones and force quitting the game. "I needed to talk to you."

He stretches his arms above his head and offers her a grand smile that only he could manage after being woken up. "Soooo what's it about? Is it about Anna? I bet it's about Anna."

"Olaf," Elsa groans.

"It _is _about Anna," he squeals. "Oh, I knew it! Did she kiss you?"

"Maybe I kissed _her._"

The pale boy leaps in the air. "Oh did you? Did you?"

"Sarcasm."

He frowns pointedly. "You know I don't _like _that. Tell me everything. How was it?"

"For the last time, we didn't kiss."

He looks around his bedroom, as if in search of something. "Why are you in my bedroom at nine o'clock in the morning, then?"

Elsa leaps into her story before Olaf can continue jumping to conclusions and consequently babble her ears off. It's been running through her head for the past two hours, despite her efforts to distract herself. It flows out like she's told it a thousand times. He remains quiet throughout it all. Elsa's always been surprised at what a good listener he is.

"Hmm," he ponders. "Well, you like her, then. Which is a good thing to know because we all could tell how confused you were before."

"We all?" Elsa growls.

Olaf swats his hands at her. "Oh, shush. Mostly just Marshmallow and I."

"Mostly just—" Elsa shakes her head. She trusts Olaf with her life, but he's terrible at keeping secrets. He just doesn't understand the concept. "I still don't believe he talks."

He does the swatting gesture again. "Really, shush. Anyway, if you told a girl to get into your bed and cuddle and she listened to you, that means she likes you."

Elsa groans. "I know."

"You know? You know! Oh, you know!"

While Olaf is the most incredible person to celebrate with, he's also the most repetitive.

"Jesus, Olaf."

He beams, and throws his arms around her. "You finally know! So what are you going to do? Are you going to kiss her? Please kiss her. She wants to be kissed. She tried to kiss you before. Remember?"

"Olaf, I told you that story five minutes ago."

"Yeah, right." His eyes are wide and happy and innocent. They remind her a lot of Anna's. Except hers are a lot more devious and flirtatious. His are just pure childlike wonder. They blink at her. "So you're gonna, right?"

"I can't just kiss her, Olaf."

"Why not?"

"I—" Elsa stops suddenly in realization that there isn't really a reason. She's sure that there must be. Yet after a moment of searching her mind while Olaf stares at her, she finds nothing.

"See! So you have to kiss her!"

Elsa runs her hand through her uncombed hair. "I don't think you just go up to people and kiss them, Olaf."

"I do."

She ignores this.

"I have to be more...romantic. Especially with Anna. It seems like that's something she would like."

"Ooh, ooh, I know! We'll buy her flowers."

Elsa makes a face.

"Yes, I can see it already. I'm thinking like maybe some daisies, tulips, how 'bout orchids—no, not orchids. Orchids and daisies? No go. Roses!"

The blonde groans and falls back onto the futon.

Olaf stands up suddenly, hands on his hips. "What are you doing down there? There's no time to sleep. We have a girl to kiss!"

* * *

This, Elsa decides, is going to be the death of her. Standing in the middle of a flower shop, she has discovered that she's most certainly allergic to pollen. She's been scratching at her nose and dabbing at her eyes for the past ten minutes, as Olaf, quite literally, skips around the shop. He pulls at random bouquets, requesting the origin and meaning of every last flower.

"Do we really," Elsa asks, voice congested, "have to do this?"

Her best friend gives her the most confused look he can muster, and then gets back to work as if her question doesn't even warrant a verbal response. She groans.

Elsa doesn't think that Olaf would even notice if she stepped out of her personal hell, but she would feel guilty. She can't hand Anna a bouquet of flowers that she had no part in picking out.

She drags her feet to the front desk, where Olaf is now prattling off names of flowers.

"So daisies mean innocence, which describes the two of you perfectly. Some people even say it means 'I'll never tell' which just _screams _you. Geranium means folly, which you did a lot, so I guess that's accurate. Plus it's so pretty, and on sale. Honey flower is sweetness, which Anna most certainly is—"

"Olaf," Elsa interjects with a sniffle. "I hope you remember you haven't _met—"_

"Oh, shush," he says, "Spanish jasmine is sensuality, which you're probably hoping for. Plus it'll look _so _nice along the edges. You do have all this, don't you?"

The woman behind the counter nods her head. Her eyes are wide in a way that only Olaf can inspire.

"Alright, could you put it together?"

"Could I—" The woman stares at the small, black haired boy. Elsa notices her heavy Russian accent. "Now?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Ve take our orders one week in advance."

"Do you have all the flowers here?"

The flourist slowly nods her head, as if she's debating whether she should tell this overenthusiastic man the truth.

"Then you can make it! We'll pay you double."

This is something the woman can work with. She nods now, and turns into the back room.

"_Who _will pay her double, Olaf?" Elsa growls in faked anger.

"You, why?"

She shoves him in the shoulder, and he tumbles into a rack of flowers. It's a miracle that they all stay upright. He giggles with snorts between every exhale.

They wait for a while in the flower shop after he has stopped laughing. Olaf acts as a tour guide, showing Elsa all the different bouquets, and spouting out flower meanings like he was born with the knowledge. None of the meanings seemed to mean much to Elsa, and besides the daisies and jasmine that Olaf had already included, nothing seems very Anna like.

When the woman comes out, Elsa's eyes are drawn to the doorway. Rather than look at the lavish bouquet in the woman's hand, her eyes are drawn to the left of the door.

"What's that?" she asks, pointing. Olaf looks incredibly pleased with her interest, and opens his mouth to answer, but the flourist responds first.

"Hyacinth. The purple ones mean 'please forgive me'." Her voice is flat and uninterested. _Please pay me and leave my shop, _it says.

Elsa perks up immediately. "Could we have one of those in there, too?" The woman stares at her. "Please?"

The flourist shakes her head. "You must be communicating a very strong message."

Elsa blushes and wraps her arms around her torso. Olaf swats at her. "None of that. Today is confident Elsa day."

She glares at her best friend until the woman returns with the finished product.

"This is it."

"Ooh! I love it even more," Olaf gushes.

Elsa has to admit, it has a certain beauty to it. Purple, white, and yellow complement each other in the most elegant way. She knows that the meanings will be lost on Anna, as they would be on any sane person, but they add another layer of intimacy. Although they activate her allergies, she leans in to smell it. As far as flowers go, they smell delicious.

"Alright. How much is my enthusiastic little friend going to cost me?"

* * *

**Sorry about the wait! I didn't have internet at my house and I didn't have the story saved on the computers at school for obvious reasons. Anyway, thanks for your patience. Hope this was worth it.**


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